Wolf
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: A secret is uncovered that has the power to pit friend against friend and father against son – and someone has to die before it’s all over.
1. Chapter 1

"Wolf"

Summary – A secret is uncovered that has the power to pit friend against friend and father against son – and someone has to die before it's all over.

Post ROTK

Rated R for violence, mentions of abuse, and implied rape. (Previously rated PG-13 but bumped to R when I was writing Chapters 19, 20, and 21).

AUTHOR'S NOTE – I am not the great J.R.R. Tolkien nor am I related to him in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, I do not own any of the following characters or place names. I am just an author looking to take his characters out for a little spin in a story that has been brewing in my mind for just about a year now. I make no money whatsoever from this story, except for the reviews of you, dear readers, and that is enough payment to keep my muse happy. So please, do the right thing: leave a review if the story so moves you. It's my incentive to get the chapters up faster and faster chapter uploads mean less time hanging in suspense for you. Enjoy!

"There! There! By that tree!"

"I'm on him."

"Kyno, assist Randor! He's wounded."

"Yes, sire."

The sounds of battle rang out in the otherwise peaceful clearing amid the endless green of the surrounding forest. Swords clashed harshly against one another with sharp, metallic screams as metal met metal in the warm, heavy late spring air. Arrows whizzed and whined overhead as fierce war cries erupted in parched throats. All around, there was the oppressive stench of blood and sweat as it mingled together in a strange mating dance.

"I need more back up. More are coming my lord."

"Not for long! We shall overtake them yet. Stand your ground!"

"We are coming to aid you Valos."

"You six there, come assist me. I am going after the leader."

"We are with you, my lord."

More arrows flew, some falling harmlessly to the grass, piercing naught but the soil and grass or perhaps the occasional thick tree root. Others, however, lodged themselves deep into bodies with deadly accuracy. These bodies would sometimes fall after this, never to rise from the dust again. Blood flowed freely on all sides, running in rivulets from wounds, staining the earth below a sickening crimson. Still, the onslaught continued.

Now two bodies emerged from the thick of the fight and stood face to face against one another, while all around them, the battle raged on. None took notice of the pair as they warily eyed one another, deciding on where the most deadly places to strike at were located. One took aim at last and let fly with a crudely fashioned spear, but the other saw the intended path and avoided it easily. The partially rusted metal head embedded itself into the ground, content for the moment to feast upon soil instead of flesh and blood. The leader who had avoided the deadly projectile now stepped up and took his aim, an arrow already notched and bow drawn. It was the last of the arrows that he had carried in the leather quiver that was slung across his back and shoulder. He checked his aim and released his arrow, which sped from him with a true path, felling the other, struck to the heart by the gold feathered shaft.

The handful of warriors left under the fallen leader's command refused to give ground, still minded to win the day, with or without a leader. Now the one who had survived unsheathed his sword and neatly lopped off the head of what he figured to be the second in command. Upon seeing this, the rest fled, but the valiant warriors of the victorious side pursued them and smote them down as they attempted escape. Shouts of victory and congratulations rent the air, for though several of their warriors lay wounded, none had lost their lives. But the leader motioned for them to settle down, though relief was clearly written on his face.

"Well done, my friends. But let us put aside our time to celebrate, for there is much to do yet before the sunlight fades into night. Let us bring our comrades to shelter and tend to their wounds."

"Well spoken, my lord," said the one named Kyno. "But where shall we go? I fear our enemy may try and attack us by night."

"Let us take them to the stronghold that we have fought so hard to free this day. It is not far from here and will provide safe refuge for all of our forces," came the reply. "Valos, pick the twenty gentlest hands among you to move the wounded. I want Lanan and five others to gather the weapons here, our spent arrows as well as the weapons of our enemies. Separate them into two piles, so that each may reclaim his own weapons and those of the enemy shall be brought to my father. Bring them all to the refuge and take care not to forget to collect the supplies at our hidden camp. Talsen, take the remaining men and gather firewood. We shall burn the corpses as per tradition. For now, I shall assist Valos in moving the wounded."

Now each warrior went about his own tasks as they had been commanded, and in a short time, all the tasks had been completed. The wounded were safe, the weapons sorted and returned to their owners, and the bodies of the dead had been committed to the unquenchable hunger of the flames. When the embers had died down and been extinguished, each returned to the stronghold.

The stronghold was a tower, tall as the trees and wide enough to house only about fifty warriors. It was built of white stone, crispy cut and fitted together with barely a joint to be seen between the man sized slabs of rock. It was old too, for none still residing in the kingdom could remember a time when either it or its sister towers had not existed. They simply had always been there to most minds, but it had been long since they had all been free from the grasp of the enemy. Now the rocks were dirtied with the marks of the enemy, though the inside had remained blissfully untouched, for none save the returning warriors knew the way to release the locks.

So it was here that the bedrolls of soft deer fur were laid, some on cots for the wounded and the rest carpeted the floor. And on the floor was just where the leader spread out his own bedroll, though he chose to take a back corner of the floor. He left off from tending to the hurts of his brothers-in-arms, for he was not one skilled in the ways of healing. That was Kyno's domain, among others. After they had all supped, he spoke up to his warriors.

"We shall have need to post guards tonight I am afraid," he said with an apologetic look. "Though our enemy is cowardly, I do not trust that they may not try something under the cover of darkness. I know that each of you have fought hard today, toiling greatly for your kingdom, and I am thankful. I know also that you must all be exhausted from today's trials but I ask that you bear with me this night. I shall watch alongside you, though I ask that Dalius, Oraforn, Malthus, and Garren take the first watch. I will have four others relieve you of your duties in two hours. Take care to let nothing past your observations and report anything directly back to me. However, I ask that you leave no man alone at any time."

"Yes, my lord," they replied before turning on their heels and heading out into the now cooling air of the twilight hours.

The sun was hanging low on the horizon; just the upper tip was holding onto to the world against slipping into the darkness of the night hours. The warriors who were not tending to the wounded cast themselves on their bedrolls nonetheless, not yet asleep, but taking a moment of relaxation. But not the leader. He went about to each of them and gave them their assignments for the night's watch. To those who could not take a shift, he knelt by each bedside and spoke words of praise for a fight well fought and conferred with Kyno or one of the other physicians about their wounds. When he was finished, he fished out a worn looking map of the kingdom from a supply bag and took it to his bedroll. There he sat cross legged, tracing lines over the surface with his fingers, looking to see which areas still needed to be liberated. It would require a still greater effort, but there were only a few small areas to purge the enemy from. Inwardly, he smiled, for his efforts had not been in vain.

The shift in the guards changed several times and darkness blanketed the world. Still the leader went about his business, now conferring with a captain, now checking the status of the remaining supplies. Fires were lit in several pits for light by which to see better and to boil water for the cleansing of dirtied bandages. Several warriors who still remained awake pressed their leader to take some rest, but he seemed tireless and only a select few that knew him well knew that he was agitated. The supplies were running low. He would have to return to the palace the next morning to replenish them. It was not the fact that he had to return that bothered him so, but that he had to leave his men. True, his captains were more than worthy to carry on without him, but if something happened he wanted to be there to fight side by side with them.

But for the moment, he pushed all such thoughts out of his mind and began to change the bandages of Randor, one of the youngest warriors of the group. The leader smiled at him, for he knew the younger warrior well. Though Randor was many years his junior, the pair were good friends. It had only been in the previous spring that the younger warrior had come of age to join the kingdom's military. The leader remembered how excited Randor had been when he could finally join the effort to reclaim the kingdom.

But the leader's thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling out to him from the doorway.

"Prince Legolas," called the warrior named Valos, "our men have captured a small band of intruders within our woods."


	2. Chapter 2

Immediately, the young prince of the Silvan elves stood from his squatting position and strode over to Valos.  

"Intruders?  How many?"  
  


"Just three, my lord.  They are being held just outside the door.  Alnynia is with them."

"Bring them forth."

"Yes my lord.  Alnynia, bring them in," he called over his shoulder to the waiting elf outside.

Nearby elves who still remained awake drew their weapons, some armed with bows, others with swords.  They stood ready should the worst happen and an attempt be made on their beloved prince's life.  But Legolas seemed unconcerned as he listened to the silence that had fallen in the stronghold.  A smile broke out as he heard the falling of all too familiar footsteps coming closer.  Within moments, he spied Aragorn and Gimli coming through the doorway with one other, whom Legolas could not identify.  They were bound at the wrists and Legolas made a motion for the others to release them.

"My friends," he exclaimed as he stepped forward to greet them, while the rest of the elves lowered their weapons and went back to what they had been doing.  "Thank you Valos and Alnynia.  You have done well.  You may return to your posts."

The two warriors nodded, bowed, and left to reenter the dark, moonless night.

"Come, take a seat over by me," Legolas said as he led the way to his bedroll and the unoccupied area next to it.  The others took a moment to catch up and place their own meager supplies down.  "What brings you to Mirkwood?  I hope all is well in Gondor?"

Aragorn nodded.  "All is well in the White City, though we have sorely missed your presence."

"Then this is a social call?  You should have written to me in advance and I would have prepared a welcome fit for you.  But now then, who is your friend?"  
  


"Ah, you have hit upon the cause of our visit," said Gimli.

Aragorn cleared his throat before beginning.  "Legolas, we have reason to believe that our friend here is a Mirkwood elf.  He does not say much; in fact he seems frightened of me, but I have gathered such information from him as to piece together a story.  He claims to have been taken from his home as a small child and sold into slavery.  How he came to be in the service of Gondor I do not know.  I first noticed him about two months ago while he was working in the royal stables.  He was tending to Brego at the time and I had come in with the intention of taking the horse out for a ride."

Legolas looked over to the elf sitting between the man and the dwarf.  His hair was brown like that of Elrond's, while his eyes were the green of the midsummer's grass.  He looked slightly older than Legolas was and his face was an unmoving expression of fear.  His eyes darted nervously, even frantically, about as he took in his surroundings.  He was thin too, this elf, even by elvish standards.  This Legolas could see even through the loose fitting clothing that he wore, though he smirked as he saw the pattern of the White Tree and Seven Silver Stars that was emblazoned across the front. 

"I let him borrow some clothing," Aragorn said, catching his friend's reaction.  "He had naught but pauper's rags when I found him, and those were torn, threadbare and dirty.  He was, and remained, far too skittish for me to get measurements for proper fitting clothing."

Legolas nodded in understanding.  "What is your name, friend?" he asked the elf.

At being addressed, the elf's eyes widened into an expression of sheer terror, his color going pure white.  He cast his eyes downward and made no response.

"He knows that you are in a position of power," Aragorn explained.  "I believe that he must have been abused by one or more former masters and therefore, has an inane fear of authority.  It took me close to two weeks to gain enough trust from him to get what little information that I was able to get."

Legolas' face went grim as he registered what his friend had said.  "Hmmm," he mused.  "Perhaps he would rather speak on a full stomach.  Tallos, bring me some food and drink for our guests."

Another minute passed and Tallos, still clad in armor, came to them, bearing baskets of food and several wineskins filled with wine and water.  Happy to share a meal together once more, the three friends ate their fill while the strange new elf sat eating small bites of bread.  

Seeing this, Legolas shook his head.  "No my friend, tonight you dine in style.  Eat up and take rest, for no one here shall hurt you.  Still, we would like to know what to call you."

"I have no name," said the other after a momentary hesitation.

Legolas furrowed his brow.  "Surely someone must have called you something once."

The elf shook his head.  "I have no proper name, only the name Wolf, which the monsters once called me."

"Wolf," Legolas repeated, and the word seemed harsh to his tongue and ears.  But somehow he knew why the elf had been renamed as such.  The monsters, whoever they were, had wanted the break his spirit quickly, and so, they had taken away the last thing that he would have owned, and that was his rightful name.

But now the elf, Wolf, Legolas mentally reminded himself, would say no more and answer no other questions, for he still feared the three friends.  He was below them, a servant, taught to fear those in power through years of hard labor and torturous punishment if he failed.  So the young prince allowed him some time to himself and fell to talking with the man and the dwarf.  Minas Tirith was functioning well and since Aragorn's coronation as king, the city had become very prosperous.  As for Mirkwood, well, Legolas was hopeful that before the year was through, the woods would be totally reclaimed from the evil that still lingered in patches here and there.

Night continued to deepen outside the walls of the stronghold.  Watch shifts were changed and the fires in the pits began to die down low.  Wolf and Gimli had since fallen asleep, the latter snoring forcefully where he lay.  Wolf had been given permission to take rest by Legolas, a fact which the prince hated, for he wanted to gain the elf's trust and make him feel at ease, not to have to act as lord and master.  The role had never really suited him, though he knew that if his father were ever to cross over the sea, he would become king.  As for Aragorn and Legolas, the pair stayed awake, the only ones amid the sea of resting warriors.  Even Kyno and the other physicians had allowed themselves to sleep.

But sleep will take all creatures into its blissful bosom, and somewhere just after the midnight hour, both allowed themselves to succumb to the realm of dreams. 


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Sorry for the long delay in updates, my dear readers.  Things have just been very hectic on my end…I had my college graduation to deal with among them.  And then right afterwards I went to do two weeks of charity work in Hawaii with the school, so I haven't had too much time to come around and post my updates.  But I am home now and still unemployed, so hopefully there will be quicker updates.  Thank you everyone for bearing with me!

The morning broke warmer than the previous day.  Legolas was up and about before all the rest, on watch to relieve the warriors that had spent the previous few hours standing vigil against enemy attacks.  When others came to replace him, he quietly slipped up to a higher level of the stronghold and gazed out at the mist-flooded woods; the distant trees a ghostly gray shade.  There were many questions on his mind and he was determined to get the answers.  But first, he would have to gain Wolf's trust and he was not quite sure how to do that.  It was true that the elf had opened up enough to inform him of his name, but he had closed up and become quiet again just as quickly.  Legolas had gotten the feeling that Wolf was testing him to see if he could be trusted.  This, Legolas did not like at all.  The idea that an elf could be so shy was troublesome and worried him greatly.  Just what had happened in the elder elf's life that had caused this?

With more questions and fewer answers than he had had originally, Legolas dejectedly left the upper roof of the stronghold and slipped back inside to where his bedroll lay.  This he tied up and made his few other belongings ready for departure.  With the diminishing supplies that the elves had and with the new mystery of Wolf's true identity, Legolas knew that he would have to return to his father's palace.  Perhaps Thranduil could shed some light on what was going on with Wolf.

He was packed and ready to leave when Aragorn, Gimli, and Wolf awoke.  One of the younger and less graceful warriors had dropped one of the swords that he carried in a bundle. The weapon clattered to the floor harshly, startling those inside and waking those who had been asleep. 

Legolas called his men together and let them know of his intentions to return to the palace.  A number of elves would be needed to go with him to aid in the transport of supplies – the weapons of the goblins that would be presented to their king, and the much needed supplies that had to come back to the stronghold.  These warriors would actually only go to the palace, for once there, they would be replaced by fresh warriors that had not spent the last few weeks in daily battles. These warriors would bring the fresh supplies with them and, being large enough in number, would replace not only the missing warriors but those who had stayed behind as well. 

For the group to return to the palace then, Legolas chose Valos and the elves under him, Lanan and his warriors, Tallos, who excelled most in the use of a sword, Illus and his men, and Elein, the horse master.  Also to go with him were Kyno, Queilos, and Artuous, all respected healers, and these were chosen to watch over the wounded warriors who would be escorted back to the palace walls.  Lastly, Aragorn, Gimli, and Wolf were to accompany the group as honored guests to their fair city in the woods.

As soon as all could prepare to leave, the group left the safety of the stronghold and headed out into the foreboding woods.  All were on high alert, moving as stealthily and quietly as they could, for none knew if goblins or spiders lurked in the shadows.  A few elves threw annoyed looks at Gimli, for by far he was the noisiest member of the bunch.  Legolas gave them reprimanding glances; the dwarf was his friend and was trying his best to stay silent.  Every so often they would have to stop the procession and tend to a wounded elf.  Mostly it was Randor who groaned in pain as his body shifted into uncomfortable positions that irritated his wounds, and of the wounded, he bore some of the worst. 

The day drew on and the shadows lengthened.  The group had so far encountered only the silence of the woods, save for the chirping of birds high up, unseen in the topmost branches of the trees.  They were halfway to the city gates when Legolas suddenly stopped, looking intensely into the shadows.  The others followed suit.

"What is it?" Gimli whispered, but his question was met with silence. 

"Spiders!" Legolas cried as the first dark shape burst through the undergrowth and onto the lighted path.

A battle cry went up immediately as weapons were brandished and bodies leapt into the fray.  All around them, more of the vile creatures approached.  Arrows took flight from the bows of the archers, raining down on the spiders like a deadly hail.  Several of the arrows sunk into the swollen bodies of the beasts, felling them in mid-run.  But now the battle was too close for the use of bows, and these were dropped to the ground without hesitation.  Swords replaced them in the hand-to-fang combat.  Aragorn too joined into the battle, wielding Anduril as skillfully as the elves used their own.  Gimli, always eager for a fight, hewed at the oversized insects with his study axe clenched tightly in his hands.  He fought at the backs of Legolas and Aragorn, for the three were used to covering for one another in battle, and now the stance came naturally to them.

A few of the spiders went after the wounded elves, for these could not fight as well as the others, if they could fight at all.  To their aid dashed Legolas, using his twin elven blades to sever the lengths of sticky webbing that the spiders had wound around them.  Legolas knew that if he went after the spiders themselves first, several of the warriors would be lost, dragged away into the darkening woods to the spiders' lair.  His blades flashed as they caught the sunlight, shining as with an undying flame as they slashed at first the webbing and then the heads and bodies of the spiders.  Now he was surrounded, for neither the dwarf or the man was at his side now, having been preoccupied with another group of the creatures.  Legolas twisted this way and that, striking out whenever and at whatever he could.  His blows were lightening quick, but he was sorely out numbered and the spiders were too fast.  They edged around him closer and closer, hemming him into a small space that left him barely enough room in which to dodge the attacks.  He gave a cry for help just moments before a cry of pain escaped his lips.

Several of the closest elves finished off the spiders that they were facing and went to aid the prince, not knowing what had happened.  Aragorn and Gimli joined them as well, hoping to get to their friend in time.  Fierce were the strikes that they made at the spiders and their blades bit hungrily into the flesh and blood.  Heads were severed from necks and landed with dull thuds on the soft grassy ground as a path was hewed away to rescue Legolas.  He was lying on the ground, looking pale and clutching his left shoulder.  His tunic was torn and blood was flowing from a wound. 

Aragorn stooped low to the ground to protect the elf while the others finished off what was left of the spiders.  When they had all been slain, a cry was made for Kyno to come forth to help. 

"My lord," he said as he knelt down on the ground next to Legolas.

"One bit me when I turned to strike another on my right side," said the prince shakily. 

Kyno rummaged around in a small satchel that he always carried with him.  After a moment he produced two vials of liquid.  One, a clear fluid, he uncorked and raised to Legolas' lips for him to drink.

"This will counteract the spider's poison," he said as Legolas drank it down.

The other liquid was an amber color.  This Kyno spread on a bandage, which he used to bind Legolas' wound with.

"Combination cleanser and pain reliever," he said to Aragorn's questioning looks. 

"He will be all right?" Aragorn asked.

Kyno nodded.  "Absolutely.  The venom did not have enough time in his system to do damage before he got the antidote.  Can you stand and walk, my lord?"

"I think so, yes," Legolas said as he got to his feet.  "Let us press on.  I want to be in the city before dusk.  I will not risk another attack by the spiders."

"And the carcasses, my lord?" asked Valos.

"Leave them for now.  Tomorrow morning I shall send a group to burn them, if other spiders do not come to eat the dead this night."

The warriors picked up the bows and swords that had been abandoned and plucked their arrows from the ground and spiders.  Once they were ready, they picked up the ends of the litters that the wounded had been placed on and headed on towards the city.


	4. Chapter 4

At the gates to the palace, two guards met the band of warriors and welcomed them back, for it had been several weeks since they had departed.

"Hail Legolas Thranduilion!" they greeted their prince.

"Hail Fannor and Thoris," he replied. "It is good to see you again."

"How did your campaign go?" asked the one called Fannor.

"Very well. But I must see my father right away," Legolas replied.

"You shall find him in his study most likely," said Thoris. "He's been in there for most of the day."

"Thank you."

"Shall one of us go announce your return?"

"No, there is no need for that. I will find him myself."

They passed through the gates and into the main receiving room inside the palace, with the exception of the healers and the wounded. These turned to the right and made their way to the healing houses where they would receive proper care until their wounds had healed. Now Legolas gave a signal to the rest of the warriors. They had done well and could go about to their homes, as it would be several more weeks before they would be needed again to fight.

One by one they dispersed, leaving only the prince, the dwarf, the Gondorian, and Wolf. Legolas made a motion for them to follow him, for he wanted to bring them to his father, so that their presence would not go uncelebrated. They traveled down several long halls richly decorated with great tapestries depicting important historical elven heroes and events until they reached the king's study. The door was slightly ajar and Legolas could just make out his father sitting at his desk, completely absorbed in reading a scroll on what Legolas guessed might be a proposal of some sort. He raised his slender hand up and knocked lightly on the solid dark wood of the door. Inside, Thranduil looked up.

"Who is it?" he asked, for he could not see clearly who it was that stood behind the door.

"Nobody important," Legolas replied jokingly as he pushed open the door and strode inside.

"Legolas!" cried the elven king as he rose to meet him.

"Father," said Legolas as they came face to face and father embraced son. "It is so good to be home."

"I am happy to see you. But come, tell me, who are these folks that you have brought here with you? And tell me, how did your hunting trip go?"

"Father, these are my friends, Aragorn and Gimli."

"Ah, yes, I have heard so much about you. Legolas spoke very highly of you."

"It is nice to meet you, my lord Thranduil," replied Aragorn. Gimli responded in a similar fashion.

"This is Wolf," Legolas said after the pleasantries had been exchanged. He motioned to the silent elf behind him to his left.

Thranduil looked at Wolf intently for a moment or two. Wolf was visibly shaken, for the king of Mirkwood radiated a sense of power.

"Is he all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Actually, I think it would be best if he took some rest in my room. I know very little about him, and I would like the chance to speak with him further. He would probably be more comfortable there anyway," Legolas said quickly, and a look of slight relief flooded over Wolf's face.

"Very well then," Thranduil said and called a servant to escort Wolf to Legolas' chambers.

Once the elf had left the room, Legolas spoke up. "Aragorn and Gimli found Wolf working as a servant in Minas Tirith," he said, and went on to explain the little history that Aragorn had gathered from Wolf. Once his story was complete, he looked at his father. "Do you know who he might be?"

Thranduil sighed. "It is very likely that he is of Mirkwood origins, but who he is, I do not know. Many years ago, before you were born, we had many problems with the goblins of the mountains. We lost many elves to them, but never in abduction, only in raids that were made with the sole purpose of murder."

Legolas thought this over. "I will try and find out more pieces to the puzzle tonight if I can, and if Wolf learns to trust me."

Now the conversation turned and the four spoke of other things. Thranduil began to get to know his son's friends, for though he had heard about them, they had never yet met face to face as adults. Aragorn, in particular interested him. The tale of the elven raised ranger turned king was well known to him and Thranduil remembered meeting him as a child of three years while on a trip to Rivendell to visit with Elrond. Gimli, he was surprised to learn, was the son of Gloin, who he had once imprisoned before the Battle of Five Armies.

Together they talked through the night, taking supper together in the study so that none would interrupt them. But as the night wore on, Legolas could see fatigue taking hold of his friends and ordered a servant to show them to the guest rooms. When they had taken their leave, he alone stayed, sitting and taking a drink with his father.

"Your friends are charming," the king said. "But come, I am anxious to hear of your campaign."

Legolas took a sip of wine before answering. "All went well, though I am sending fresh warriors and supplies to relieve those left behind. The eastern strongholds remain free, as you already know. A week or so ago we took the first of the two southern ones and took the second yesterday. Orcs held them both and twenty of our men were wounded in the battle, but nothing too serious. Flesh wounds for the most part, really, though I dare say poor Randor took more than his fair share. Still, we have succeeded in taking back the southern strongholds."

"That is wonderful news indeed!" said Thranduil, at once pleased and proud of his son.

"It is, but the threat of attack is still there. The spiders especially are fighting back. We were attacked this afternoon a several miles from the city gates." He showed his bound shoulder to his father. Even through the bandages, the area was swollen and red in color. "I received this in the fight." He was grinning now as if it were a badge of honor that he bore.

Thranduil was not so pleased at seeing Legolas' wound. But he sighed, knowing full well that Legolas was headstrong and if he protested his son's efforts in reclaiming Mirkwood, the younger elf would only throw himself into the next battle more forcefully. In that respect, he took after Thranduil, and the king was just glad that Legolas was at least rational about fighting, unlike Thranduil's father, who had lost his life by rushing headfirst into battle against Gil-galad's orders.

"And what of Dol Guldur?" Thranduil asked with a low voice. Dol Guldur was still a name of fear for the woodland folk.

"None have had the heart yet to attempt to either reclaim or destroy it," Legolas answered. "There is still an evil that surrounds it, though the Enemy is vanquished. I thought it best that our warriors should have small victories first before we attack Dol Guldur. My hope is that previous victories in reclaiming the kingdom will steel their hearts so that they do not quail when we do go after that evil place."

Thranduil nodded his approval of his son's thoughts and Legolas smiled. Then he stood, placing his empty wine glass on a small round-topped side table. He stretched a bit, wincing slightly at the sting in his wounded shoulder.

"I think it is time for me to speak with Wolf. There are too many unanswered questions. If he truly is from Mirkwood, I would see him restored to whatever relations he might have still residing on these shores." Legolas was speaking lowly, as if to himself and Thranduil caught the note of uncertainty in his voice.

"You sound unsure of yourself," he said at last. "Is there a problem?"

Legolas nodded his golden head. "I am not quite sure how to go about it. He is terrified of Aragorn and myself and leery, to say the least, of Gimli. And you are completely out of the question," he said with a smirk. "I thought he might faint with fear when he saw you."

Thranduil laughed a little. "Apparently I am frightening then."

"Well, to him, yes. You underestimate how powerful your presence is. Wolf seems to have been brought up to fear anyone greater or more powerful than himself."

Thranduil nodded. "I wish I knew how you could gain his trust. The sooner we find out what his history is, the sooner we may be able to help him come out of his shell. It is not natural for an elf to be as he is."

"I know," sighed Legolas, at once serious again. "But I have to try something, anything, no matter how long it takes. And the same goes for restoring the glory of our kingdom," he added as he made for the door. "I saw how you looked at me when I showed you the spider bite."

With that, he was out the door and heading for his chambers.


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas walked silently down the hallways of the palace.  All was quiet, save for the occasional light swish of clothing as a servant passed by attending to some duty or another.  In passing by one of the meeting rooms that his father and he sometimes held council in, he saw several of his captains talking together.  They bowed when they caught sight of him and Legolas strode over to them.  These were not the elves that had traveled back to the city with him from the stronghold, but rather a small group of those who had been left behind to protect the city.  To them Legolas spoke and left orders for the following day.  They were to attend to the spider carcasses and report to the stronghold with the new supplies, relieving the warriors that still remained within its walls.

After speaking with them, he turned down a different arm of the hall and into his own room.  Wolf was there, cowering on a richly upholstered couch, hugging his knees to himself and looking rather like a cornered animal when a hunter comes to administer the killing blow.  He looked up fearfully as Legolas entered the room.  At a quick glance though, Legolas was pleased.  A tray with a half eaten meal was lying on top of a small table and Wolf was resting in different clothing.  Legolas caught the faint scent of lavender bath oils and knew that his servants had allowed Wolf a warm bath.  In the attached bathing room, Legolas could see one of the servants drawing a second bath.

Legolas decided against approaching Wolf right away and passed him by without saying a word.  The elder elf seemed to hold his breath in anticipation as Legolas walked towards him and then let go of it in a relieved sigh as he continued past.  In this fashion Wolf endured the prince's presence until the door to the bathing room shut as Legolas entered and the servant exited.  Inside, the young elf cleansed the dirt from his body, feeling rejuvenated by the scent of the perfumed oils and the feel of the warm water on his skin.  Once finished, he drained the water from the tub and dressed in the fine sleeping clothes that had been laid out for him.  He sighed inwardly though, for now it was time to confront the frightened lost elf in the next room.  Steeling his courage, he reentered his bedroom and made fast the door so that none would interrupt him.  Now he turned to Wolf.

"I do hope that the servants have been kind to you," he said as he went about his business, putting away a few things where they belonged.

Wolf only nodded.

"You know, you have no need to feel frightened here," Legolas continued, determined not to let the other's silence dishearten him.  "You are safe and I have only the desire to help you, not to harm you."  Still Wolf's expression did not change.  Legolas tried again.  "Listen my friend, I do not know what evils befell you in your past but take comfort in the fact that those days are long gone.  If you can but trust me a little I can help you.  Please tell me what it was that scarred you so."

Wolf shook his head furiously.  Legolas tried to decide whether it was the pain of whatever memories Wolf had that would not allow him to speak or whether it was the fear that something similar might befall him.

"Wolf, I do not know how I can express to you my true self.  I know that you fear me because I am in a higher position than you, or so you believe.  But you must trust me when I say that I have no desire to make you a servant or to abuse you in any way.  I wish to share your company as a friend and nothing more.  I greatly despise the whole idea of master and servant.  You are my equal, Wolf.  Neither of us is the greater one here."

Wolf furrowed his brow and Legolas knew why, for he had spoken of his servants and the elder elf had seen them doing Legolas' bidding.

"You misunderstand me," Legolas said with a smile.  "The elves here that are in the service of my father and myself, while they are servants, are treated with much respect.  They work at the palace surely, but never have they been mistreated or even spoken to as less than our equal.  They are our partners in the smooth operation of the kingdom, though the authority lies within the hands of my father and myself.  Please, will you not give us the chance to help you?"

But Wolf would not speak and Legolas fell silent, trying to think of something to say.  He was unused to such fear in another elf and it unnerved him.  At last he sighed in despair.

"Wolf, I do not know what it is that shall make you feel comfortable around me.  Perhaps a night's rest will do you some good.  Ai, but Tandala has forgotten to make up an extra bed.  Excuse me for a minute or two and I shall track down some bedding."

Wolf shook his head.

"Is there something the matter?" Legolas asked. 

"No my lord, it is fine.  I shall be comfortable enough upon the couch," came the unexpected reply.

Now it came time for Legolas to shake his head.  "You are a guest in my father's house and I will not stand for a friend to be treated thusly."

Wolf cowered down again, for without meaning too, Legolas had spoken as one with power.  Mentally, Legolas kicked himself.  _Just when Wolf was starting to talk to me!_ he thought.  But the damage had been done, and Wolf grew silent and wary again.  Legolas decided to give him some more time to himself and went to fetch some linens. 

When he returned, Wolf had moved to the floor and Legolas went about making up the plush couch as a bed.  Now he moved to the window and peered out at the sky, taking in the sight of the stars and the thin sliver of the moon that hung among them.  Half to himself, he began to sing aloud an old elvish lullaby.  It was a favorite song of his since the time he had been but a small child and he had often sung it to himself in the bitter watches of the night while traveling during the war.  It told of the things of the night enshrouded world; the stars, the moon, fires burning brightly in the hearths of each household, the whisper of the wind, the call of the night birds, the chirping of summer crickets, and other such things.  He was only two or three verses in, when behind him came another voice, matching his own words.  Legolas spun on his heel to see who it was.

There was Wolf, absently singing the same tune.


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas immediately forgot his song as he looked at Wolf.  Wolf, however, kept singing for a moment or two before he realized that the other had left off.

"How…how do you know that song?" Legolas asked once the elder elf fell silent.

Wolf looked ashamed at having sung out loud.  But Legolas' gaze was eager, friendly, and full of wonder.  Slowly, by degrees, Wolf found himself compelled to answer. 

"I just know it," he said at length, testing to see if the prince would become angry.  When it was clear that he was not, Wolf continued.  "I think I have always known it.  It was one of the few things that kept me going and comforted me all those long years."

"What was it that happened to you?" prodded Legolas, testing his luck to see how much information he could get out of Wolf.

"You ask for me to bring up painful memories, my lord," he replied, but Legolas waved off the last of his sentence.

"Let us drop the formalities," he said.

"As you wish, my…" Wolf said, before catching himself. 

"Please, if you can tell your tale, no matter how sad, I must hear it, for perhaps I can find some good in it and restore you to what family you may have."

Wolf took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, eyes closed.  Slowly, he reopened them and began his tale.

"Much of my childhood is but a blank in my mind," he said, his voice hovering just above a whisper.  "I remember only one incident clearly, before life became a harsh experience of imprisonment.  I was maybe five or six at the time, still very young.  My mother and I were out in the woods with some others, enjoying the day.  Suddenly a shout went up from some one among them.  We were under attack, though I did not understand it at the time.  Arrows rained down on us.  I saw my mother fall, though I can no longer recall what she looked like, for such harsh treatment was in store for me.  An arrow had pierced her chest.  I tried to hide but was found by the monsters who for some reason which I still do not understand, did not kill me, but took me off to their lair in the mountains.  There my imprisonment began.  Years passed and I lived under the earth in the dark, forgotten places of the world.  There I was broken, my name taken away.  'Wolf' they called me and that became my identity.  I forgot the world that I had left behind and forced out what memories lingered, save for one image that stayed no matter how hard I tried to forget."

"What?" asked Legolas.

"A giant spider was dragging my mother away, though I could hardly recognize her from the clots of blood and gore that covered her, for she had been hacked away at, dead as she was, by the monsters who took me."

Legolas' breath caught in his throat, but reasoned to himself that now at least one riddle had an answer.  Wolf was indeed a Mirkwood elf, for no other realm had trouble with the spiders.  The other monsters, Legolas reasoned, sounded like they were orcs.  But now Wolf continued.

"The monsters taught me fear and the concept of master and servant.  I was the servant and if ever I failed to please, they would hack and tear at my body with crude weapons until I could scarcely move for the pain.  In this manner the years passed, unnoticed and uncounted by me, until one day when I was brought from the mountains.  In the dead of night I was brought to meet another, this one a man.  His smile was wicked and I could right away tell that although I already endured much hardship, that worse days were ahead for me.  Many days and nights we traveled until at last we reached the gates of Minas Tirith, the city in which I was to live in for the reminder of my days, until, that is, King Aragorn brought me here.  The evil man turned me over to the Steward, who became my new master.  But my days of toil were not yet over.  The work was grueling and the punishments much worse, if ever a time came when I did not perform up to what was expected of me.  The other servants under the rule of the Steward abused me too and took their pleasure upon my body at nights whenever they could.  Many a night, once the others had fallen asleep, I wished for death to take me."

"Did you ever attempt to escape?" Legolas could not help but ask the question that burned in his mind.

"Once from the monsters, yes," Wolf replied.  "For my troubles they burnt my flesh.  I still carry the scar upon my back I believe," and as he spoke, he began to undo the buttons that bound his shirt to him.  "There was no hope to escape the service of the Stewards.  Guards were posted inside and outside our sleeping quarters and while we were working, there were always eyes on us as we went about our tasks.  Things became even worse after Denethor took his father's place as Steward and as it came closer to the time of the war.  Only his sons showed the servants kindness.  Boromir once even offered to take my place in a beating I was to receive, for Denethor's horse, who was in my care, became ill and died."

"Did he beat Boromir?" asked Legolas, suddenly thinking with fondness upon the departed Fellowship member.

Wolf shook his head as he pulled off the shirt to show Legolas his wounds.  "No.  I was still beaten.  But then he went and continued to beat Faramir as well, for the younger son had refused to be the one to abuse me.  Now I have told you my tale in full. You may look upon my wounds and see that I have not deceived you in any word."

Wolf turned so that Legolas could inspect the series of scars that ran over the whole of his back.  Such disfigurement the prince had never seen and he suppressed a horrified gasp.  Every inch of Wolf's back held the trace of what had been once fresh wounds.  The older ones were the faintest of the ones that he carried, while others were newer, the sight of them impossible to avoid.

And then Legolas' gaze came to rest on the burn wound that Wolf had spoken of.  It was on the small of his lower back, still red and upraised after all of the years that had passed.  But that was not what caused him to focus on it so intently.

"Where did the orcs get the metal by which to burn you?"

"It was a token that I had around my neck.  They had taken it from me when I first was abducted and for some reason, they kept it and used it to burn me.  Granted, I was still quite young when this occurred, so perhaps it had only been laziness on their part that saw it kept.  I do not know." 

"Let us be thankful that they did keep it," said Legolas.  "I think it may help us figure out your true identity, though we must speak to my father in the morning.  Take some rest in the meantime."

"And you?" asked Wolf as Legolas headed to the door.

"There are far too many things which press on my mind now," Legolas answered.  "But do not worry about me.  I am only going to get a cup of tea in the kitchen and shall return shortly afterwards."


	7. Chapter 7

Legolas left the bewildered Wolf inside his room and made his way down the hallways once again until he reached the kitchen.  It was dark inside, but Legolas did not bother to light the lamps.  Instead, he lit only the fire in the stone fireplace and set a kettle of water on the rack above the flames to heat.  He sat down at the small, rectangular table across from the fireplace, mug in hand.  For once, he was grateful for the blessed silence that filled the palace at night, interrupted only by the sounds of the crackling kindling.  The tea kettle steamed and Legolas poured until his mug was filled.

There he sat in the quiet peace of the kitchen, sipping his drink silently.  Over and over again he ran Wolf's story in his mind.  There was little wonder why the poor elf was so skittish.  Abused and raped, his life had been one torment after another.  Legolas did not dare think how long that life had been.  He had seen what damage the cruelty of the orcs could make and he shuttered to think of Wolf having lived through such an experience.  And men too had had their way with Wolf, doing with him whatever suited them best at the moment.  Legolas felt an anger rise within him the more he thought about it.  His thoughts strayed briefly to the man that had brought Wolf to the Stewards in Gondor, but it seemed of little matter now.  The man had been, after all, just a man and would have certainly been long dead.

Then there was the matter of the burn scar that the elf bore.  Legolas had fought to remain as unaffected as possible, and he assumed that it had worked, for Wolf had not commented on his reaction as he gazed upon it.  The prince sighed and placed his head in his hands.  He could not be sure of what the scar was, but he had a decent guess.  The wound was still red and fresh looking, which made Legolas assume that the orcs had tampered with the metal before branding Wolf thusly.  However, he was no medical scholar and could not even guess as to what they had done to preserve it so freshly.  He would have to ask his father or Kyno about that at some point, but not until he had more answers to his questions.  Now he drained his cup as he thought fiercely of the design of the scar.  It was twisted and malformed quiet badly to all but the extremely trained eye.  As a hunter and warrior, Legolas' eyes could pick up those hidden details.  But still, he could not force himself to believe what it was that he had seen in the burn.  But there it was, clear to him as it would be to his father.

The burn was in the shape of the royal crest. 

This unnerved Legolas perhaps even more than Wolf's shyness had.  He did not know of any royals or palace officials that had ever gone missing.  Certainly this had to be a mistake and his father would clear up any misunderstandings in the morning.  In this fashion did Legolas try to ease his mind enough to allow himself some sleep, but the thoughts and the questions bore too heavily upon him and he passed the night in a fitful dream.    

When the morning broke renewing the powder blue of the sky, Legolas rose from his bed.  Looking over, he could see that Wolf was already awake, having been used to rising with the sun to begin on the day's chores.

"Here, take these," he offered to Wolf after rummaging around his closet for some clothing.  It was true that Wolf was broader across the shoulders than Legolas was, but still he managed to find a few things that might reasonably fit him.  Wolf nodded his appreciation.  "Today we shall seek council with my father, King Thranduil," Legolas explained as he ducked behind a dressing screen and changed his clothing.  "There are some riddles I do not understand.  You have no need to fear him, for he is wise and kind."

Again Wolf nodded and soon the pair emerged from the room, ready to face Thranduil.  They found the king once again in his study, not working quite yet, but rather finishing off his breakfast.  He rose to greet them when he saw the two younger elves approaching the doorway.

"Good morning to you," he said cheerfully.  "I do hope you are feeling much better."  This was directed at Wolf, who nodded.  "And your shoulder wound, I assume has healed, Legolas?"

"As good as new," came the reply.  "Father, I have need to speak with you."

"Of course," said the king, closing the door behind them as they came in to sit in the armchairs that faced his desk and bookshelves.  As for himself, he pulled up his own chair and faced it towards the other two.  "Is there something wrong?"

"I spoke with Wolf last night and gathered much information about him.  He is most definitely a Mirkwood elf, but still I do not know who he truly is," Legolas began.  "If it might please you, Wolf, I ask that you recount your tale to my father."

Wolf looked hesitant at first, a combination of the painful memories and the inane fear of Thranduil, Legolas guessed.  But he told his sad story from start to end, his voice wavering at times.  When he was finished, as on the previous night, he showed his scars to verify his story.

"See there," said Legolas, as he traced his slender finger above the red scar.  "It looks like your own crest."  To prove his point, he picked up a letter sealed with the emblem of the crest and held it next to the scar for comparison.  "And it may be worth mentioning, but he knew the lullaby you and mother used to sing to me when I was young."

Now Thranduil turned pale.  "It cannot be," he said at last, more to himself than to anyone else.  "It cannot be.  Alandor?"


	8. Chapter 8

Wolf sat unblinking for a moment or two, for Thranduil's words had stirred up some feeling within his soul. He was like a man waking from a deep slumber who struggles to recall a dream that has plagued him the night through. For Wolf, there was a feeling of knowing that name, Alandor, some way far back in his foggy and half-forgotten past.

"Alandor?" he repeated. "Alandor." He closed his eyes as if in deep thought.

Thranduil sat watching Wolf's reactions intently. Legolas also sat quietly nearby, lost as to what the connection was or who Alandor might be. At any rate, it was obvious that if Wolf and Alandor were one and the same, Thranduil was most excited. Patiently, Legolas waited to see what was to happen.

"Alandor?" Thranduil repeated, as the elf opened his eyes.

"I remember that name. I was called that once, long ago, though I had all but forgotten it, Wolf being my new identity," Wolf began. "There are scattered shards of memories."

"Tell me what you remember," prodded the elven king.

"I remember very little before the days of my slavery, first to the orcs, then to men. There is a stuffed bear I remember, cream colored with a smiling face and as soft as a morning breeze. I remember a brown pony with a streaming black mane, with a single white diamond on his forehead. And I remember taking this pony out for rides when I was but a child. Strong hands would lift me to his back and hold me steady on our short adventures. I guess the hands belong to my father, but I cannot recall his face, nor that of my mother. Mostly I remember a lullaby, sung to me at bedtimes when the world had grown dark and night covered all."

"Can you sing a little now?" Thranduil asked.

Wolf nodded. "If that is your wish."

Slowly, lowly, Wolf began his song, his voice deeper than when he spoke.

_Hear the merry crickets chirping in the wood_

_The young night is so fair and mild_

_Your song I would keep if only I could_

_So sing your sweet song for my dear child_

_Night is a blessing and sleep is a boon_

_The sun had gone down into the west_

_In the comfort of light of the moon_

_All the world's creatures take their rest_

_The stars are alight in the darkened sky_

_In the morning in the east the sun shall creep_

_And then the shadows of night will die_

_So watch over my child so fast asleep_

It was only a small fragment of the much longer song, but here Wolf stopped, allowing the last sonorous deep-throated notes to fade in the morning breeze. Legolas nodded his head slightly; Wolf had hit every note perfectly. Thranduil looked thoughtful, and Legolas thought there was a look of pain mixed with relief.

"Alandor," he said at length. "It is you, my son. By the grace of the Valar you have come back to me."

Legolas looked up sharply at his father, with no small amount of confusion written on his face.

"The burn on his back, the memories, and the song have proved it to me," Thranduil said to them both. "I made that song up myself and none but you both would have ever had that sung to you. Yet there is one final test I must make to be certain. If indeed you are Alandor, you will know the answer to this next question. Think back as far as you can to your childhood. I gave you a nickname, a secret between you and me, which we never told your mother. Do you remember it?"

Wolf looked at him blankly for a moment before speaking. "You called me Horse-lord because of my love of horses and because of the way that I took care of that pony, though I can scarcely bring to mind his name now."

"It is you!" Thranduil exclaimed, at last embracing his once lost son. Once he broke away, he looked at Legolas with a sigh.

"There is much that I must tell you, things which I never spoke of. I know you must be confused as to all of this and I will tell you both the tale in full. I met Alandor's mother in Rivendell. She was a maid in the house of Elrond and I met her by chance while visiting his home. I was just a prince back then; your grandfather was still alive. When he died in the Last Alliance, I became king and married the young elf maiden, Desoria. Together we ruled Mirkwood and later Alandor was born, but fate was against us, despite what happiness we had. Spiders and orcs had made alliances to try and take the woods. Many a time we had suffered such raids and many a valiant elf was slain in their wake. Still, we fought back and thought for a while that we had won. By the time Alandor was six, we all thought that it was all over. So it came as a shock when the raid came. Desoria and Alandor had gone out for a walk in the woods with several others. None ever came back alive. A search party came across the remains of the raid a few days later. By then, the bodies of the dead had been so mutilated that we could only identify them by bits of clothing found on or near them. Spiders had been at work too…eating the dead. Heavy rains had washed away what tracks had been made and so we lost the trail of the vile creatures."

"So there was no search?" Legolas asked.

"There was, a great search that lasted two moon cycles. But at last we came to the only conclusion that we felt we had evidence to. We had found in several places bones stripped clean of muscle and flesh. Among one of these, we found tattered bits of cloth…such as only a prince would wear. This was found near to Desoria's body. Alandor was dead, my captains assured me." Here the king paused to take a breath and to drain the tea from his mug. "One hundred and fifty seven years passed and I passed each day in mourning for my lost family. Then I met Laila. As you already know, Legolas, she was a Mirkwood elf. She saved me from my depression and mended my soul, though I never forgot Desoria or you, Alandor. After a time, we were married and two hundred and one years after losing my first family, Legolas was born."

"What happened to Laila?" asked Alandor. "I should very much like to meet her."

"I wish that were possible," replied Thranduil, "but she has since passed over the seas to Valinor."

"Why did you never speak of this before?" asked Legolas. "Did you fear that I might resent knowing?"

The king shook his head. "It was too painful for me. To bring up those memories would have shred my heart into pieces. Resent me if you will for withholding such knowledge."

"I shall not," Legolas replied. "I understand."

Thranduil nodded. "But now, I must ask your leave. There is much to be done. Tonight we celebrate, for Alandor has returned and the southern strongholds are freed."


	9. Chapter 9

After leaving behind the king's study, Legolas and Wolf, no, it was Alandor now as Legolas had to remind himself, took to the hallways for a tour of the palace. Alandor remembered virtually nothing of the place, though as he walked around, shreds of memories came drifting back to him. Halfway through the palace, the two elves came face to face with Aragorn and Gimli, who had both slept in that morning.

"Good morning," Legolas greeted them. "I trust you slept well?"

"Aye," agreed Gimli. "Nothing like elven finery to rest upon, though I dare say it pales in comparison to the finery of the dwarves."

Legolas cracked a small smile at the dwarf's joke. "There is news I must share."

Aragorn and Gimli looked up with interest, searching their friend's face. But they could gather nothing from his expression.

"I would like to reintroduce you to our mysterious elf friend," he said cryptically. "Aragorn, Gimli, meet Prince Alandor, eldest son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood."

Aragorn's mouth opened as if to gasp or speak, but no sound issued forth. Gimli stared wide-eyed, not knowing if he should believe what he had heard Legolas say. Legolas and Alandor stifled a laugh at the comical expressions on the faces of the man and dwarf.

"Let me explain," offered Legolas. He then recounted all of the events that had led up to the revelation of Wolf's true identity. "And there you have it all," he said at the story's end.

Once again, the others seemed to be dumbstruck, at the very least.

"I believe thanks are in order," Alandor said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. "From the bottom of my heart I thank you both," he said, referencing Aragorn and Gimli, "for all that you have done. Taking me in, helping me to discover my family once more. There are no words to express my gratitude."

"And the same holds true for me as well," offered Legolas, "as I am sure that it does for my father. On his behalf, I am extending to you an invitation for the celebration to be held this night, in honor of Alandor's return."

"And the freedom of the strongholds," Alandor reminded him.

"But mostly Alandor's return," grinned Legolas. "The true celebration of the freedom of the woods will come when all Mirkwood is reclaimed, not just a few southern strongholds."

And so the friends conversed, taking a lunch together in the gardens behind the king's estate. When the noon hour had come and gone, the man and dwarf took their leave of the two princes, allowing them some time to get to know one another. They spoke of many things, Alandor being quite interested in all there was to know about Mirkwood. So Legolas recounted the tales of its heroes and of the evil that lingered in the forest. He spoke of the relationship the elves had with the Lake Men and of Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies. In turn, Alandor offered new information into his own past, going more in depth to some of the less painful stories that he had. It was only after this that he spoke of his apprehension regarding the night's festivities.

"I have lived all my life as a slave," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I do not know how to act as a prince should."

"Rest your mind easy," Legolas replied. "I have survived more than enough of our father's banquets to know what to expect. Just you follow my lead and you shall make it through the night relatively unscathed."

Alandor gave him a sideways glance, questioningly. Legolas laughed.

"Of course I am joking! Though I dare say that it is quite possible that many of the elders shall question you all the night through. Many of them will no doubt remember the circumstances surrounding your capture and will be more then eager to question you about it. I shall do my best to keep them away, if you so wish it."

"No, thank you, let them question me as they see fit. There is no doubt in my mind that they will have need to hear my story sometime. I may as well get it over with tonight."

Legolas nodded. "As you wish then. You are being braver than I had thought about this. In any event, it is likely that the first thing that our father shall do is to announce the reason for the celebration and offer up a toast. Then we shall eat and then the floor is open for wandering about and talking to whom we will."

Now the talk fell to other things as the sun continued its westward journey and began to climb back below the brim of the horizon, plating the world with its golden light. A warm breeze caressed the world, smelling faintly of sweet flowers that blossomed in the gardens.

"Tell me," Alandor finally said, "what was it like fighting in the war? Often times I wished I had had a weapon in hand and been on the battlefield. Granted, I do know how to fight well, at least not with anything better than my fists or a small knife, but still, I would have gladly taken my place on the field. Even dying would have been nobler than being bound to the palace under the rule of Denethor and watching the battle from the sidelines, able to do nothing."

Legolas' face grew dark. "But because you were sidelined by the Steward, you lived to see another day. War is never easy or pretty and I saw sights that still make my blood run cold. Wanton death and destruction, lives taken away so easily."

"What kept you going then?"

"The thought of defeating the Enemy did because at last there would be the opportunity for peace. And plenty of times when I would despair, I would think of Frodo and Sam, wandering alone in the wilderness of Mordor. I knew that they would never give up and it gave me the courage to continue to fight. Also, it helped to have Aragorn and Gimli fighting by my side. Friends, even in battle, can always lift the spirit."

Here Legolas stopped and looked sideways at Alandor. A small smile played across his lips and a light laugh escaped his lips.

"What?" asked Alandor. "What is so funny?'

"Nothing at all," Legolas replied. "It is just that I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother."

"A brother," repeated the older of the two elves. "I like the sound of that."

Legolas nodded. "Ai, but look at the sun. We have only a short while before the banquet begins. We must go and dress."


	10. Chapter 10

Evening spread over the land and the first few stars began to twinkle in the darkened skies. Fires were lit in the wide clearing behind the palace and tables and chairs stood ready for the night's celebration. The smells of roasting sweet meats and the strong, heady scent of wine wafted in the gentle breeze. An outdoor dais was erected and three high backed, plush chairs were placed upon it, behind a long table. Here the woodland king and his sons would be seated, to preside over the festivities. Runners had been sent out earlier in the day to spread the word that the king would be holding a feast, but the reason why had been kept a secret. Now elves from throughout the kingdom came into the clearing, noble and common as they were. Many of the wounded soldiers from the battle over the strongholds also came, their wounds being on the mend thanks to elven healing. Only the most severe cases had been kept indoors to heal, the young warrior Randor among them. Aragorn and Gimli were there as well, speaking with Kyno and a few other elves that they had grown to know. Neither one had seen Legolas or Alandor since they had departed after lunch. Neither had they seen much of Thranduil, for the elf lord had been quite busy overseeing the preparations for the night.

At last all the elves had come and were lightly conversing with one another in the open air. The sound of a trumpet rang out, effectively silencing the crowd.

"My lords and my ladies, honored guests, children of the forest," said a young warden, "I give you your lords, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas Thranduilion."

There was the sound of much cheering, for the two lords were well loved by their people. Now they entered the lighted area, the firelight flickering merrily on their features. They walked side by side and took their place on the dais, Alandor right beside them.

None in the gathered crowded dared to question who the third elf was, though the feeling of confusion and wonder was a mutual one. Thranduil could sense as much and suppressed a small laugh that emerged in his throat. He stood before his chair and put up his hands. Once again, the crowd of elves fell silent. Only the occasional hoot of a night owl and the crackling of the fires broke the silence. After a moment or two of deciding where to begin, Thranduil finally spoke.

"My friends," he said, "tonight we celebrate many things. As you are all well aware, there has been a great effort to reclaim our woods and purge the lingering evil from it. Tonight we celebrate, for my son Legolas has led our forces to yet further victory. Two more strongholds, these in the south, are once again under our control. Let us lift our glasses high and toast him."

"And may we also toast those who have fought by my side and those who could not join us tonight, guarding the strongholds in my absence," Legolas interjected. "Further, let us celebrate the fact that though the evil persists, not a single elf has fallen in battle!"

"Hear, hear!" answered the others.

All took a sip of their wine before Thranduil spoke again.

"There is yet one thing which we have to toast. There are those of you in the crowd tonight, respected elders and friends, who will remember a time when spiders and goblins banded together. Many of our finest warriors fell in daily battles with them, and many innocents lost their lives." A few heads in the crowd silently bowed at the unpleasant memories. "For those of you who do not remember that time, I will say this. Mirkwood had a different queen then and a young prince named Alandor, both of whom were lost in such a raid by the evil creatures. But now the Valar have brought Alandor back to his own people. Behold! I give you Alandor, my eldest son and your prince!"

Much cheering and clapping erupted, for there were indeed many a wizened old elf who remembered the circumstances surrounding the prince's supposed death. Alandor looked slightly embarrassed by the fuss being made and was glad when Thranduil announced "let us feast tonight!"

"The trees celebrate your return as well," Legolas commented casually to Alandor as they ate. "They sing joyously of the return of the prince, for many of them remember your first attempts to climb into their boughs."

Alandor smiled at his brother. "I look forward to getting reacquainted with them then."

Legolas laughed, a merry sound to behold. "I think that would greatly please them."

And so the better part of the hour passed, elves eating and drinking together in the cheery atmosphere. Aragorn and Gimli sat amongst them, chattering merrily with those around them, and with each other. To Legolas' dismay, they had not been placed at the high table with himself, Alandor and their father, but they were close by and there would be plenty of time to speak with them later. It was an issue of mere formalities, Legolas reasoned, though he had hoped that they would have been given seats of honor at the royal table. He would have to ask his father about it later, for now the time had come when the feasting subsided and the socialization began. Servants began clearing away dishes and minstrels began to make sweet music. Tables and chairs were abandoned as friends walked about seeking out other friends.

Legolas tried to stay by Alandor's side, lest the newly restored prince be overwhelmed by curious elders, but that was a losing battle and soon Legolas had lost his brother to them. He laughed to himself a little and then went in search of his own friends. At first, the blonde prince was surrounded by a group of young elflings and he picked them up and played with them for some time. He was a favorite of the youngsters and they could often persuade him to join their games, for he had a child's heart, despite his reputation of Mirkwood's greatest archer and warrior. And it had been several weeks since he had last been home, which had made the young elves miss him terribly.

After a while, Legolas finally was able to untangle himself from the arms that clutched at him, begging to be lifted up once again, and he made his way back into the thick of the crowd. But before he could reach where Aragorn and Gimli were, he paused to talk to Kyno, for he was eager to hear what progress the remaining wounded were making. Together they drank and spoke, until Thranduil approached them both. He had succeeded in saving Alandor from the expected onslaught of questions and now it was time for another announcement.

The three ascended the dais again and a hush fell back over the rest of the elves from the kingdom.

"My friends," Thranduil began as he had before. "There are yet many more hours of merrymaking ahead of us, but I feel that I must make my announcement now. I call forth Aragorn son of Arathorn and Gimli son of Gloin." The two mentioned stepped forward and stood before the dais. "Look well upon them, for they are traitors to the kingdom! Guards! Seize them!"

Several armed elven guards rushed forward to capture the man and the dwarf. Gimli, they caught easily, but a sudden struggle from the stout dwarf allowed for Aragorn to escape back into the palace, for there was no place else to go to. As he fled, he could just make out Legolas' voice.

"Find him and capture him! Lock down the palace! In three days time, we execute them both!"


	11. Chapter 11

Aragorn ran hard, his heart thudding loudly in his ears, blocking out all other sound. Behind him, shouts rent the night air as silent footsteps pursued him. He reached the inside of the palace and bolted down a long hallway. Beads of perspiration collected on his forehead and rolled down his face. Where was he to go? So far he had been lucky and had somehow outrun the elves that followed him. Whether it was the Numenorian blood that flowed in his veins that helped him or unadulterated fear that he given him such fleet feet, he did not know.

His eyes swiveled this way and that, searching for anything that could serve as a decent refuge. Elvish voices echoed in the stone hallways. The guards were getting closer. In a near panic, Aragorn ducked into a room to his left. It was a servants' storage room, harboring all sorts of supplies. Linens were neatly folded and placed on shelves to his left. Washing tubs were placed one inside the other near them. To the right there was a walk-in closet in which hung spare clothing for the servants. Aragorn ducked inside, lest the guards look inside the room. At the far left hand corner of the closet, the boarded up remains of a door stood. Curiosity, or perhaps fear of discovery, prodded him to look further.

Pushing the hastily placed boards away, Aragorn found that the door opened up into a dark corridor. The air beyond it smelt stale. But what he would find in the pitch darkness, he did not know. He took another look about him. Old oil lamps were near at hand, left forgotten in an open box on the floor of the closet. He picked up one; it was still filled with oil and ready to burn. Aragorn turned to enter the darkness, taking a few wineskins of oil from the box as an afterthought. There was no way that he wanted to run out of fuel. Finally, he stepped into the inky blackness, shutting the door behind him. He took several long strides into the gloom, at all times feeling his way with his hands. When he was sure he was a safe distance from the door, he lit the lamp and his heart lightened as the flame flickered into life. He looked around.

He was in a corridor that ran between the walls of the palace, an ancient, forgotten highway for the use of long departed kings to move about from place to place in secret. It was a safety feature, in case the king was to ever come under threat from hostile forces. The secret ways were hidden to all but the keenest of eyes and would protect any who knew of them. It was made of sheer rock too, without so much as a sliver cut into them for light and air. Instinctively, Aragorn knew that the walls would be thick.

He began to follow the course of the narrow hall. How many minutes passed him by, he did not know. Mentally, he noted each turn that he made, in case need would drive him back later. But now his legs began to fail him, his strength waning. The run had cost him dearly needed energy. He halted his journey in the dark and sat, now turning the lamp flame low to conserve the fuel that burned inside. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned back against the wall, the soles of his feet resting against the opposite wall. Immediately, suppressed questions surfaced in his mind.

Why was he being hunted? He was no criminal and as far as he could tall, he had broken no law of the woodland realm. What had he and Gimli done (or what did Thranduil think that they had done) that would label them as traitors? What evil force was at work? Certainly it was strong, whatever it was, for it had overthrown Legolas as well. Aragorn once again heard his friend's voice clearly inside his mind, and it had called for his capture and proclaimed a death sentence upon him. Aragorn bit his lower lip in deep thought. He knew that elves were a proud folk certainly, but were the people of Mirkwood so proud as to declare undeserving folk as traitors, even though they had done no wrong? An image of Alandor floated into the Gondorian's mind. That elvish pride would certainly be wounded at the mistreatment the elf had received. And yet that was the fault of neither Aragorn nor Gimli. Or could ancient feuds run so deep that Thranduil would use that as an excuse to rid Middle Earth of one more dwarf? Aragorn shook his head. The friendship that had been forged between Legolas and Gimli was too strong. Legolas would never allow his father to do such a thing. And then, there was himself, Aragorn grimly noted. He had done nothing and certainly was no dwarf.

Aragorn sighed. Something was missing. No explanation that the man could think of made any sense. There were too many holes in each theory. Some mischief was about and if Aragorn wanted to save his life, and that of Gimli, he would need to figure it out soon. With such thoughts in his mind, he shut off the lamp and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Fitful dreams plagued him. He was searching for something, but he knew not what and could not find it anywhere. Slowly he came to the realization that he was looking for the reason why his friend was acting so strangely. But before he could find it, a dark figure stood before him and Aragorn knew that confrontation with the figure would mean death. In his dream, he chose to fight the figure. Drawing Anduril, he advanced. A knife was drawn by the figure. For a moment the two were locked in battle. Then the figure got the better of Aragorn and stabbed him through the stomach. Now the figure lightened as the darkness lifted. With dying eyes, Aragorn took in his assailant. Shadows melted away revealing Legolas standing above him, bloody knife in hand, grim satisfaction mixed with hatred upon his face.


	12. Chapter 12

Aragorn awoke with a sudden start and found himself still in the oppressive darkness of the hidden corridor. He groped about blindly for the lamp. After a moment, his fingers grasped the cool metal handle and he relit the lamp, glad to have the light, as if it would chase away the horrific nightmare he had been having. He sat still for the moment, taking in the comforting light that chased away the shadows. When his racing heart finally began to beat normally once again, he stood. He did not know how long he had slept and he suddenly felt very aware of the precious little time that was allotted to him.

He began his journey again. Every so often after making a turn, he would come to flights of steps leading either up or down. Aragorn chose to follow the latest series of steps down into the darkness. The outside world was still wrapped in night, it being just an hour or two after midnight. Now Aragorn faced a fork in the path. He chose to head to the right.

Another long corridor faced him and he went steadily forward, cutting the darkness around him with the first light it had seen in long ages. At last the corridor came to an end. He was in a circular clearing that roughly resembled a room or storage area, though for what purpose, he could not say. There was nothing there to cut the emptiness. Aragorn sighed to himself. It was a dead end, probably made to confuse whatever enemies might happen upon the secret passages between the palace walls. For good measure though, Aragorn scanned the walls looking for the faintest sign of a door. There was none. He turned to head back into the corridor.

Without warning he felt his left foot snag upon something on the ground, almost throwing him off his feet. Quickly, he steadied himself and then squatted down to see what he had tripped upon. There was a rusty metal ring embedded into the floor. Interest flooded over the Gondorian. He pulled up on the ring, opening the door. Further darkness greeted him. Cautiously, he thrust the lamp through the opening. There was a storeroom here, small and cramped with barrels. He was above it, looking down into the middle of the room. The floor was not far. He could drop down and lift himself back into the room above in an instant if need called for it. He decided to chance it. Silently he eased himself into the room, like a thief in the night. He spent a few precious minutes ferreting through the store, taking what he could easily carry in the small bag he carried with him and would last him a few days, in case he was not able to return to the room soon. Then he quietly stole back out through the trapdoor, shutting it firmly behind him.

When he reached the fork once again, he decided to chance the left route. Another set of steps greeted him after a few moments. At the base he noticed a faint stirring in the air around him. He was coming to the wing of the palace. Suddenly the close walls fell away, leaving him in a wide, open space. There were slits in the walls here to let in air. These were to his right. To his left and close to the ground were iron grates like vents. Beyond that he could see the glimmer of torchlight. Now he heard voices speaking together in elvish. Aragorn extinguished his own lamp and as quietly as he could, he laid down upon the floor. He peered into the room beyond the grates.

He had found one of the king's prisons. Cells lined the wall beneath him and he could hear the muttering of Gimli. Aragorn smiled grimly. At least he knew where his companion was. But more interesting to him were the soft voices of the elves. He listened closely, at once glad that he had grown up in the house of Elrond, for Elvish was his second language because of that.

He strained his eyes to see where the voices were coming from. After a moment or two, he found them, vague black shapes in at back of the room, their backs to him. They were peering at something on a table before them.

"Your plan is working well," said one voice.

"Almost too well," said another.

"Did you doubt me?" asked a third voice.

"No," replied the second. "But I still fear failure."

"I will not fail," snorted the third voice, and Aragorn guessed that he must have been the leader. But leader of whom and what his plan was, Aragorn did not know. "Thranduil and his son are completely under my control. You saw how quickly they succumbed to the serum."

Aragorn's ears perked up.

"Aye, but still, that ranger remains on the loose. If he gets to either of them," the second voice started to protest. He was cut off by the first elf who had spoken.

"They will kill him. Do not doubt our father's abilities. No others could have discovered such a potent drug and its' uses."

"How long will the effects last?" asked the second elf. "How much longer must this charade continue for?"

"As long as they continue to receive the serum, the effects will last. As for us, we need only play this little game until the man and dwarf are executed. Then we make our move."

"Why not before? Why not strike tomorrow?" It was the doubtful voice of the second elf again.

The leader did not seem to be in good humor and growled his response back. "Because I am in charge. And because our little prince has only had one dose of the serum. He is of strong will and though has succumbed to my wishes thus far, I will not chance failure. Too long have I prepared for this. One hundred and fifty eight years I spent perfecting this serum. I will not risk failure by rushing into things now."

The second figure stepped back at the verbal lashing he had received. The leader pushed something into his hands.

"Now then, we are getting low on our main ingredient. Go to the cell to the left of the dwarf and fill this container. Be wary though!"

Aragorn shrank back a little into the shadows as far as he could go without losing sight of the approaching elf. The tops of the cells were solid metal and Aragorn could not see what it was that the cell contained. But after a moment he heard a low and menacing hiss as a long slender leg poked out from behind the bars.

_Spiders!_ The realization hit Aragorn like a stone. _They must be using spider venom to control the minds of Legolas and Thranduil! But what devilry is this? The spiders of Mirkwood are dark in color. That leg was the reddish color of dry clay._

After several slow minutes passed, the elf returned to his leader with the filled container in hand. The leader received it into his hands and immediately set to work mixing the venom with other ingredients that Aragorn could not see. What he did see answered one of the pressing questions plaguing his mind. A jug filled with wine was brought by one of the others and the prepared serum was emptied into it.

"Make sure that they drink only this wine," the leader instructed the other elves with him, and Aragorn now saw a fourth figure standing silently among them. "As for you," he said, turning to the silent one, "take these." From a jar, the leader extracted something Aragorn could not see. "These will ensure the clarity of your mind, as a precaution of course. We need you to remain unaffected."


	13. Chapter 13

Aragorn stayed rooted to the spot, the weight of what he had learned heavy upon him. There were traitors inside the palace. They were going to strike at Legolas, Thranduil, and Alandor within a matter of days. Aragorn knew in his heart that the lives of the royals hung in the balance. And yet, he felt frozen to the spot, not daring to risk movement for fear of being heard. True, he could move stealthily, but the hearing of the elves was far greater. And with Gimli caught and unaware of what mischief was afoot, Aragorn knew that he was the only one that could possibly save them.

One by one the elves departed from the prison room. Still Aragorn did not move, not until he was sure that they were out of earshot. Then Aragorn set to work finding a way into the room beyond the bars of the grate. It did not prove to be too difficult a matter, for the grate was not secure in the stonework and was easily removed and set to one side. It would be a tight squeeze, but Aragorn could see that it was just wide enough for him to slip through. He let himself sneak through the opening, stepping on top of the cell that Gimli was in. Quietly, he eased himself down onto the floor.

Gimli nearly gave a shout of surprise and gladness at seeing his old friend, but Aragorn rushed his finger up to his own lips in a sign to remain quiet. Gimli complied and whispered only.

"Am I glad to see you laddie! What is going on? Thranduil I can understand. This is not the first time he has imprisoned an innocent dwarf. But he and Legolas calling for our deaths?"

Aragorn shook his head. "It is not them. There is bigger mischief brewing here and the royals are but pawns in it. Those elves just now, they are plotting something and I fear the worst for the royal family." Quickly he informed the dwarf on all that had been said between the four unknown elves. "Do you know who they were?" he asked when his tale was complete.

"Aye," said Gimli. "That middle one was Kyno. The other three I could not tell. They did not sound or look familiar to me. Or at least I saw two of them. The other was in shadow the whole time and hooded."

"Kyno," repeated Aragorn, bringing to mind the face of the healer who had tended Legolas' spider bite on the way back to the palace. "I thought that the voice sounded like his, but could not be sure. He spoke too quietly and I was barely able to hear all that I did. Are you sure it was he?"

"Absolutely," Gimli said, nodding. "But enough talk! If all you say is true, Legolas and his family are going to need you!"

Aragorn nodded. "One small thing before I go," he said.

Turning on his heel, he crossed the smooth stone floor of the prison room to the table that the elves had been around earlier. Empty bowls for mixing were scattered about without order. Aragorn did not heed them and went instead to the jar that Kyno had taken something out of earlier. It was a simple, unadorned clay pot without so much as a rune to distinguish it or tell what the contents were. The top was stopped with a cork the size of Aragorn's fist. He pulled it free and grabbed a handful of what was inside.

The jar was filled nearly to the top with small oblong white pills. He sniffed at one briefly but it had no odor. Opening a tiny leather pouch hanging from his belt, Aragorn took a few of the pills, for he understood their purpose. They were counter-drugs for the spider venom serum. Somehow the ingredients negated the mind altering powers of the serum, disallowing any suggestion from taking hold in the victim's mind. Aragorn was not sure why it felt so important to take the pills with him; he knew that he would probably not be getting close enough to any of the elves to use them. He would be killed on sight if even a glimpse of him was revealed. But somehow he felt better having some of the white pills with him.

"I must go," he said turning back to Gimli. "There is much that I must do in a short space of time. You must remain here. I cannot risk the elves finding you missing. It is enough that they know I am somewhere inside the palace."

Gimli waved off his friend's apology. "Do not trouble over me. Go! Do what you need to. I will be fine enough here."

Aragorn nodded his head and began to look for the easiest way to reach the opening he had come through. The tops of the prison cells were higher than he had thought. Gimli, seeing Aragorn's thoughtful face, cupped both hands, ready to give him a boost up.

"Here," said the dwarf. "Let me help you."

A wry smile passed over the man's face and he gratefully accepted the help offered to him. With a small grunt from Gimli, Aragorn was able to reach the top of the cell and pull himself all the way up. He squeezed back through the vent and into the secret passage and returned the iron grating none too soon, for the echoing of elvish voices came softly to his ears. Guards were coming to take up their watch on the prisoner – probably the same elves who had been with Kyno earlier. Aragorn strained his ears. Yes, it was the two that had spoken with the healer elf. But as Aragorn lay on the floor listening, he could hear nothing of importance, only light joking and singing. Without further hesitation, Aragorn slipped away into the hidden corridors in search of one that could lead him to a place where he could learn of the doings of Legolas and his family.


	14. Chapter 14

The following day broke heavy and gray with a brisk wind that cut the warm temperatures of the previous days. The smell of the oncoming rain was strong and in the distance, the rumble of thunder could just be heard. By the second hour after sunrise, the rain had started to fall in a gentle shower, the full strength of the storm not yet upon the woodland realm.

Legolas had risen with the sun, not that he really needed to be awake, as he had nothing important to do that morning. But strange dreams had plagued him the whole night through, but if he tried to remember what they had been about, he simply could not remember. He laughed to himself as he pulled on a fresh tunic of pale blue. Obviously the dreams could not have been that important if he could not recall their subject matter.

The gentle rain had just begun when Alandor knocked at Legolas' door. He too had been awake for some time and said that he had felt rather lonely in the room that Thranduil had given him for his own. Legolas smiled as his brother entered the room.

"I had expected you to be completely exhausted from last night's celebration," the blue-eyed prince said. "But you handled it quite well." He laughed a little.

Alandor laughed as well. "It went smoother than I expected. Still, I am rather uncomfortable knowing that the man is still not caught by the guards."

Legolas' mouth hardened into a frown. "Never mind Aragorn. He will be caught. It is just a matter of time before our guards discover where he has disappeared to. Then he shall keep the dwarf company in our father's prison."

"Are they really to be executed?" Alandor asked.

Legolas nodded. "In two days hence."

"Why so long?"

"Father does not wish to mar your homecoming with bloodshed. True, they are traitors, but he feels that we should not celebrate life with death all at one time."

"And you?"

Legolas' eyes steeled with hatred. "If it were up to me, they would already be dead."

An uneasy silence fell between the brothers. At length, Legolas stood from his chair by the window and turned to Alandor, the smile having returned to his face.

"Well then, we must not worry ourselves with Mirkwoods' traitors just yet. There is time enough for that. The day is young and the rain merry. I feel like taking a run. What say you to accompanying me? I shall show you all the most beautiful places this close to the palace."

Alandor looked doubtful. "What of the spiders? We were attacked once already."

Legolas smiled. "Fear not. We shall remain within the city gates. Neither spiders nor goblins have ever breached them. We shall be quite safe."

"Let us go then!" Alandor exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

The rain continued to fall in gentle sheets while the two princes ran through the forest, Legolas greeting the trees as they ran. Less than a quarter of the hour was spent when the two came to a strong, proud old tree. Legolas slackened his pace and came to a stop just at the base of the impressive tree.

"Quel amrun mellon nin," he said. _Good morning my friend._

The tree at once bent its' limbs to lightly pat the young prince on the head. When the tree had done so, Legolas deftly swung up into the boughs, bidding Alandor to do the same. The tree trembled a little, but Legolas patted the rough bark, reassuring the tree.

"This is my brother, Alandor, who was taken from this land many years ago," he said quietly. "All is well."

The tree ceased its shaking, allowing the two elves to relax against its truck and stretch their legs out upon the limbs. Here they stayed and conversed about this and that until the hour was nearly spent. Then Alandor wished to see more of Mirkwood, and Legolas complied with his request. He took the elder elf here and there within the city gates, all the time loathing the fact that there was even need for gates. But the forest outside them was perilous still, despite the tireless efforts of the wood elves to vanquish all traces of evil. But soon, Legolas had constantly vowed to himself, soon that time would be upon them and there would be no need to fear the deeper places of the woods.

When the sun reached the overhead noon mark, the full extent of the storm broke upon the forest. Thunder crashed and lightening streaked in the sky. Feeling hungry, the two brothers jogged back towards the palace and made their way, dripping, down the hallways, laughing all the way. At the door to Alandor's room, they parted ways. Alandor entered his room and Legolas continued down the hall heading to his own room. Inside, he stripped off his water-laden clothing and changed into drier raiment of silver. He brushed the wet golden locks of hair, leaving the warrior braids undone. Then he left the room and went in search of Alandor and some food.


	15. Chapter 15

That night, Thranduil took a small, private supper with his sons. Together they spoke of many things, letting the conversation turn to wherever Alandor wished, for he had many questions about Mirkwood, the home he had barely known. There was laughter and much merriment, and to Legolas' eyes, it seemed that years of care and grief had fallen from Thranduil, care and grief Legolas had not even known his father had borne. Wine flowed freely at the table, a strong and sweet liquid that went down like a pleasant fire. The talk continued far into the night, long after the food had been eaten, though the drink continued to flow.

At last as the night wore on, Legolas grew weary and took his leave, leaving Alandor and Thranduil to continue their discussion. Perhaps it was the wine that was affecting Legolas so, or perhaps it was the stress of the last few weeks spent in daily battles. Whichever it was, the young prince did not at the moment seem to care. He was in high spirits despite the fatigue that had settled over his body.

Not long after he left his father and brother, Legolas found himself at the door to his room. The moonlight flooded room beyond greeted him and he did not even bother to light the lamps about his room. He could see well enough in the moon and starlight. Quickly, he shed his tunic, placing it in a wicker basket which the maids would take to the washing area. Then he lay stretched out on top of the sheets that covered his bed and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply the scent of the rain-washed earth of the departed storm. Long moments passed in this way until he finally reopened his eyes. Something was not right. But what it was that was bothering him, he could not tell. Still, he trusted his warrior instincts, and they were screaming at him that something was amiss. In an instant, he realized that he was not alone in the room.

He rolled over on his side in one swift motion, grabbing up one of his hunting knives that he left on the small night table. He unsheathed it as he stood, tossing the covering to the bed.

"Come out," he demanded, facing the dark corner where his closet was located. A vague figure was all he could see, robed and hooded, standing silent as a statue carved in stone.

The figure made a move towards him. It made a gesture as if to show that it was unarmed, yet Legolas only gripped the hilt of the knife more firmly. Closer the figure came, hands palm outwards in a gesture of peace. Legolas stepped back cautiously, allowing the figure to enter into the more lit area of the room while maintaining reasonable distance between them. The figure's hands flew up to the hood that covered its face. The hood was thrown back quickly.

"Aragorn!" growled Legolas just before he lunged at the man.

Aragorn saw the intentions of the elf as he sprang and moved just in time to avoid being impaled by the hunting knife he bore.

"I do not wish to fight you," Aragorn said as he dodged a second attempt to be sliced open by the elf.

"No, you wish to die," said Legolas. "Why else would you have come?"

He swung wildly at the man and had his wrist grabbed for his efforts. Aragorn frowned. Was this a trick of sorts being played by the elf to catch him off guard? Or was it some secondary effect of the serum? For the elf was not as quick in his movements as Aragorn knew him to be when faced with a foe. His aim was off too. Aragorn noted to himself that under normal circumstances, Legolas could make the kill on the first try. It _had_ to be the serum that was affecting him. Still, Aragorn was not going to go easy on his friend and knew that despite the hindering effects of the serum, Legolas was still very much capable of making the kill. And he would if he got the chance, for he was under the influence of Kyno's suggestions.

With a quick twist of Legolas' wrist, Aragorn loosened the hold on the hunting knife and took it for his own. He pointed it at Legolas, who darted to one side and grabbed up one of the twin white knives that he always wore into battle. Why he did not grab the other, Aragorn did not know, but he was glad for it. Dodging one of those blades would be challenging enough.

Legolas took a swipe at Aragorn, just barely missing the man's stomach as he jumped backwards. Now Aragorn threw the hunting knife to one side and unsheathed Anduril, for he knew he would have to fight the elf, as much as that pained him to admit. True, he had not expected anything less, but he had still hoped to avoid it. But now it was obvious that he would have to fight Legolas and subdue him in anyway possible. He struck out with his sword and the blade met Legolas' own sword, stopping its flight towards his sword arm. Legolas struck again at him, and this time the blade found a mark as it bit into Aragorn's arm. The Gondorian bit back a cry of pain as the blood began to trickle from the wound. Luckily for him though, he had been moving and the blade had caught him at a moment when it would do the least damage. Still, the man was taken aback. The sight of his blood on Legolas' sword was one that he had never expected to see.

The drawing of blood, while it shocked Aragorn, seemed only to kindle the elf's bloodlust even further. Legolas attacked again and Aragorn met his blade with his own. Now both tried to disarm the other, hoping to loosen the other's grip so that their weapon fell from their hands. Whether it was the serum's effects on Legolas or the Numenorian blood that ran in Aragorn's veins, the man found that he was holding his own against the elf, who could probably disarm him if the circumstances were normal. Still, neither seemed able to gain any sort of upper hand in the battle. Finally, in an attempt to take Legolas by surprise, Aragorn feigned a blow, dodging out of the way as Legolas' blade came dangerously close to embedding itself in his chest. With a half turn, Aragorn got behind the elf and smashed the hilt of his sword into the back of Legolas' head, hoping to knock him out. His actions had the desired effect and Legolas stumbled forward, unconscious. Dropping Andruil to the floor, Aragorn rushed forward and caught his friend before he could hit the floor. Then he carefully laid Legolas on the bed, resting his golden head upon the plush pillows and covering him with the blankets.

When Legolas was thusly arrayed on the bed, Aragorn retrieved his sword, placing it back in its sheath where it hung at his hip. Then, hovering over Legolas, he reached into the small leather pouch hanging from his belt. From it, he extracted one of the white pills to counter the effects of the serum. He brought it to the elf's lips, tugging free his wineskin filled with water at the same moment. He placed the pill inside Legolas' mouth, ready to help the unconscious form before him to swallow it.

Suddenly, Aragorn stopped, unable to go through with the deed. It was not that he felt guilty; he had no qualms about doing whatever it took to save his friend and return him to normal. But a thought had crossed the mind of Gondor's king. If Legolas were to swallow the pill, Aragorn was not sure if it would be strong enough to counter whatever serum the elven prince were to ingest the following day. He pulled the pill from the elf's mouth and instead, knelt by the bedside. His mouth was close to Legolas' ear when he spoke, his voice soft as a whisper.

"Legolas. There is something that you must do. Do not drink any wine! Ask only for water until we speak again tomorrow night, you and I. You will not remember that I came to your room this night, nor the fight, nor indeed that I shall await you in your room this same time tomorrow night. But you will come and we shall not fight. In the morning when you awake, you will take the white pill on the night stand and drink no wine!" As an afterthought, he added, "this I command you!"

Briefly, Aragorn wondered if he should leave two other pills and instruct Legolas to give them to Alandor and Thranduil, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He could not rouse any suspicion on the part of the traitors. Total surprise was the only weapon he had against them. The beginnings of a plan were starting to take shape in his mind. If his instructions to Legolas took hold and the elf did as he had been bidden, perhaps Aragorn stood a chance of saving the royal family of Mirkwood.


	16. Chapter 16

The sun came up bright and early in the east the following. Legolas awoke to find a dull ache in his head. Perhaps he had drunk too much wine the previous night; he had ingested more than usual at dinner. Still, he was no mere elfling that could not handle his liquor. He grimaced as a fresh throbbing pounded in his head like a hammer against the anvil. Half stumbling with his bleary eyes, he reached the water basin at the opposite end of the room and laved his face in the cool water. Feeling a little refreshed, he quickly decided that for the day at least, he would drink no more wine.

Now he stretched and dressed, ready to greet the day. There was much for him to do, for the very next day, the execution of the man and dwarf would take place. Nay, only the dwarf, Legolas reminded himself. The man was still missing within the palace walls. Feeling annoyed at the obvious incompetence of his guards, the prince made the mental decision to take up the hunt himself. The day before had been an excusable mistake, for he had spent the time helping his brother become comfortable with the kingdom. His father would not have had it any other way and Legolas had found it enjoyable taking a day to relax and get to know Alandor. But now all thoughts of relaxation and fun had vanished from his mind, for he had put too much faith in his guards. He had expected that Aragorn would have been found and been the cellmate of Gimli by now. The guards had failed utterly; it was time for him to take matters into his own hands.

He dressed quickly in dark greens and got ready his weapons. His twin knives were sheathed across his back, the hunting dagger at his side, the full quiver of arrows slung onto his shoulder. The small white pill left by Aragorn remained unnoticed on the table. Picking up the bow given to him by the Lady Galadriel, he made ready to exit his room. Throwing a second glance about the room for fear that he had forgotten something important, his eyes lit upon the counter drug. He picked it up and sniffed suspiciously. It had a faint bitter odor to it and part of Legolas desired to throw it away.

Only a nagging feeling in the back of his mind saved the pill from being discarded. For a few moments, the prince stood torn in his mind. On the one hand, the pill could have been some trick of the enemy – some poison with which to kill him. On the other, he felt compelled to swallow it – some gut instinct that told him he needed to ingest it. He bit his lower lip in thought, but eventually the power of the serum coursing in his veins was too much. The suggestion of Aragorn won out and Legolas swallowed the pill, taking a sip of water from a pitcher on his desk. Whatever happened to him now, it was too late to change his actions. If the pill were poison, he would die.

Now he felt suddenly as if nothing was wrong and with long, swift strides he made his way to the dining hall. His father and Alandor were already there and the household servants were just beginning to set out the morning's meal. Legolas slackened his pace and entered into the hall, greeting all inside as he came. Thranduil looked up and Legolas could see the look that passed over the elven king's face.

"You are leaving already?" Thranduil asked. "You only just came home again."

Legolas smiled and shook his golden head. "Nay father, I am not leaving as of yet, though I greatly desire to rejoin my soldiers. Instead I fear that our guards have failed to capture the traitor. Their inability to do so has led me to take matters into my own hands. For today, I hunt neither spider nor orc, but the king of Gondor."

"Very well then," Thranduil replied and the strange look passed. "The hunt cannot fail if my son picks up the trial. Shall Alandor accompany you?"

Again Legolas shook his head. "It would be better if he stayed this day with you. You have been robbed of one another for so long. I daresay there is much he can learn still from you."

Alandor nodded. "I am not skilled in the ways of hunting or tracking. I fear I would only hinder my brother's progress."

"Then it shall be thus. Legolas shall hunt for the traitor and bring him to the prisons to await tomorrow's execution. Alandor shall spend this day with me and I shall teach him the ways of the kingdom. Proposals have come from the Lake Men that I must soon answer and Alandor shall watch and learn, prince that he is."

The rest of the meal passed, though Legolas heard naught of what Alandor and Thranduil spoke of. His mind was busy elsewhere, in forming a plan with which to search the palace for Aragorn. When he was finished eating, and that was quickly, he took his leave from the dining hall and went in search of his captains. He found them in one of the meeting halls, talking softly to one another, exchanging news. Legolas approached them and saluted them in elf-fashion and they did the same.

Now Legolas laid his plans to make the palace one large trap. He ordered all available guards to be brought to the palace and strategically placed so that Aragorn could not move within the palace without being caught. It was true that the man had to still be within the palace walls, for the door had remained shut and guarded, and the man knew not the command to open and close the magical locks. Those guards not placed on watch would be given specific orders – routes to follow. All would start at one end of palace and work their way to the other, which would flush the man out of hiding. With guards behind him and others watching the way ahead, he would be caught in a matter of hours.

Or so it seemed to Legolas, who had not known of the secret ways between the thick walls of the palace. Never before had they been spoken of, for the secret of them had been lost in ages past, long before any of these guards had been born. Nay, even Orophor, Legolas' grandsire, had not known of their existence.


	17. Chapter 17

All the rest of that day, the wood elves patrolled every corner of the palace, with nothing to show for their efforts. It was true that the missing food had been discovered from the pantry, but there was evidence enough that the man had taken enough food to last several days. Still, Legolas placed a guard schedule on the room, a precaution should Aragorn return there for any reason. As for the prisons, there was no need to search them, for Gimli's guards kept vigil over the area. Aragorn would not have gotten past them unnoticed.

Still, there was little else to tell of the man's tale and the elves felt themselves becoming increasingly frustrated. None had ever eluded the elves for so long, save for Bilbo Baggins, and that was because the hobbit had used the One Ring to make himself invisiable. It was late evening when Legolas finally called the search to a halt. Several times the palace had been searched, top to bottom, east to west. And still no clues had been found. It was as if the former ranger had merely vanished into the air. It was a strange puzzle and Legolas knew that he would not be sleeping much that night. He was extremely uneasy knowing that an enemy could hide so well from his warriors and himself. What if the man came in the night to harm his family?

"We must remain alert this night," he told the warriors that had gathered back in the meeting room. "The man is still loose despite our best efforts. Still, he may feel bold during the night. Keep to your posts and keep watchful! I want two elves to guard the doors to my father's room and that of Alandor. I do not know if he is foolish enough to attempt to get to them, but I would rather caution be used." Here several of the warriors came forward to volunteer. Legolas smiled his approval; they were the very ones he had intended on asking.

Now the elves were dismissed and Legolas found that he was feeling weary and hungry. His father and brother would have eaten by now, but that was of little concern to him. He had no qualms in taking a quick, solitary supper. In truth, the idea was quite appealing. This way he could avoid having to admit momentary defeat to his father. It was not that Legolas felt that the king would fault him; Thranduil maintained pride in Legolas despite the circumstances. But rather, it was a personal pride that Legolas felt. This was not Dol Guldur he was trying to subdue. This was a man, a powerful man to be sure, but despite the Numenorian lineage he held, he was still a man.

Lost in his thoughts, Legolas soon found himself at the kitchen. A few torches burned inside and two female elves were seated at the table. They stood as soon as Legolas entered, offering to prepare him some food and wine. But Legolas just waved off their offers, leaning his bow against the wall.

"It is late and my lateness my own fault. Take your rest now. I shall be well enough on my own." One began to protest but Legolas laughed and shook his head. "Truly you take your job too seriously! Do you fear that I shall perish in the night? Starved to death for having refused your help? If that be the case and I do wither away, my father will believe you if you say that I insisted on it." He laughed some more; he knew both elves very well and often joked with them.

But in the end he won out and when the women had left the room he prepared himself a small plate of food. Wine he did not pour, but instead drank only the last of the water from a wineskin he had been using all day. In actuality, Legolas ate nothing more than a small portion of what had been leftover from dinner and a few pieces of fruit, but it suited him well and he ate the remnants of an apple on the way back to his room. There he dismissed two guards that stood on watch.

"I will be safe enough," he assured them. "I am restless this night and shall be my own guard. You both have worked tirelessly this day and are freshly returned from our battles in the forest. Please, take your rest, or if you be not weary then aid your fellow comrades."

When the two warriors had finally turned down the hall, Legolas entered into his own room, softly shutting the light wooden door behind him. He froze as he turned around, for by his bed, sitting in a chair, was Aragorn. Legolas' grip tightened on his bow and the other hand ached to reach to his quiver and grasp an arrow. But for some reason, he could not. Aragorn sat still, relaxed.

"You wish to kill me?" he asked the elf before him.

"I do not know," answered Legolas, who was torn between two states of mind. He placed his bow on a hook on the wall. "Why have you come here?"

"To speak with you. I carry information of utmost importance. My hope is that you will hear me out. Do you not remember our friendship and the trust you once had in me?"

"Those days are passed Aragorn. Listen to you, you say! And be a traitor to my own father? Nay. If I remain not loyal to him, who then shall?"

"If you wish your father's life be spared, then you will listen to me," Aragorn said, mustering authority in his voice. Never before had he needed to converse with his friend thusly.

"You mean to kill him then!" Legolas exclaimed, half accusing, half asking.

"No, but I do know of a plot against his life. Legolas, listen to me." Aragorn's mind was racing. Why was Legolas still trying to thwart his efforts? Had the suggestions planted in the elf's mind the night before not taken effect?

Suddenly the young prince sighed and sat upon his bed. It seemed as if a wave of tiredness overcame him and he no longer wished to fight with the man. He laid his weapons to one side.

"It is true I once trusted you and know not why I do not now. I will listen to your tale, but do not try and deceive me, for if you do, I shall not wait until the morning to see you dead," he said.

Quickly, Aragorn told of his wanderings within the palace after the finding of the secret paths. He told of finding the prison and of the cells filled with the strange colored spiders and of the plot he had overheard. Legolas sat unmoving as the man spoke, his face unchanged and Aragorn had to wonder if the elf believed him. At the end, he showed the sword wound to Legolas that the elf had dealt him the night before. Sudden remembrance came over Legolas and he lowered his eyes, all malice towards the Gondorian gone.

"I remember the fight last night. The serum you speak of must be true, which means that my father and brother are in great danger," Legolas said at length. "I am sorry for all the trouble that it has brought upon you, my friend."

Aragorn shook his head. "You are not at fault. I bear no ill will towards you, nor does Gimli."

"Aragorn, have you any idea who is behind this plot?"

"I do. I did not make mention of it before out of fear that you would not believe me. I believe that the leader is Kyno. He has three other elves under him. Two are Gimli's guards, but the other I could not see."

Legolas' face fell slightly at the revelation of Kyno, but he nodded. "He is the only one with such knowledge of spiders," he admitted, more to himself than to Aragorn. "And two guards as well. I have a fair guess as to who that might be, though I dare not make any accusations yet. The unknown elf bothers me. Still, I think there may yet be a way to uncover his identity. But we must make plans first."

"I agree," said Aragorn. "A plan has already begun to take shape in my mind. It will be dangerous though."

"Somehow, I expected nothing less," laughed Legolas.


	18. Chapter 18

When the next morning finally dawned, neither the elf nor the man had slept much. Some of the night had been spend laying their plans, but even when they had lain down to sleep, secret doubts had gnawed at their minds, robbing them of rest. Too soon, the appointed hour for the execution drew near. Legolas armed himself with his sword and hunting knife only, for to have gone to his father heavily armed would have raised immediate suspicion. Aragorn's weapons he took and carried along with his own. Then, using a length of heavy rope, he bound the man's wrists behind his back and marched him down the hallways to the throne room.

Legolas' heart was heavy as they went. On the one hand, if the plan worked, he would betray his father. On the other, if the day brought failure, he would betray the very lives of his best friends.

When they reached the throne room, Thranduil and Alandor were already seated side by side. Legolas could not help but notice that his brother sat upon the king's right hand side, the seat usually reserved for the king's heir. Surely Alandor was the eldest son of Thranduil, but Legolas had never quite thought about what that meant for his own position as the crown prince. Never had Legolas desired the throne, but it felt somehow awkward to see another in the place he had grown accustomed to. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off for the time being. There were bigger things at hand to deal with.

Gimli was just being brought into the room from a second door. Legolas could see that the dwarf was bound similarly to Aragorn and that Kyno the healer was with the two guards that ushered Gimli into the room. A grim mental smile passed through Legolas' mind. His suspicion of who two of Kyno's underlings were was proven true. He recognized the two elves as Nimras _("white horn") _and Tauron _("forester")_, Kyno's sons. Behind them two other warriors followed, one bearing Megil Gurtha, the Death Sword. Legolas knew that these warriors were freshly come from the battles in the southern part of Mirkwood, for the warriors he had left at the stronghold had returned the previous night.

Now Legolas presented his prisoner to his father, grim satisfaction covering his hardened face.

"Well done my son," Thranduil praised him. "It seems that you are the only competent warrior left in the kingdom. Would that these were the elder days when the prince did not have the do the job of the kingdom guards!"

Legolas bowed and thanked his father, pushing Aragorn to where Gimli stood. Now Thranduil stood to address those gathered.

"Shut the doors," he instructed the two guards, "and stand guard, lest these prisoners attempt escape. Certainly we would not want Legolas to have to hunt down the man again!" Here Thranduil laughed a little. Then he addressed Aragorn and Gimli directly. "Traitors to Mirkwood, your appointed doom awaits. Folly it was to attempt to deceive us with your offers of friendship. Traitorous actions shall be met with vengeance. Alandor! As the one first wronged and as my heir, take up the sword! May Mandos have mercy on your souls, for none shall be given here."

Alandor left the king's side and began to descend the few steps to where the warrior held Megil Gurtha. Legolas caught a glint in his brother's eye and quickly stepped forward. Alandor stopped, waiting to see what the young prince was to do.

"Alandor wait! Give me the sword! If any shall be the one to smite the traitors, I should be the one."

Alandor laughed. "And why should that be? Was I not the one sundered from my home and family?"

"Yes," Legolas relented after a moment, "but it was I who trusted them the most."

He reached for the sword the other held, but Alandor backed away, denying him. A thought began to form in Legolas' mind, but he pushed it away and concentrated his efforts on capturing the other's weapon. He desperately needed to buy time for his friends. Still trying to pry the sword from Alandor, Legolas addressed his father.

"Father, hear me! Let me be the one to exact the justice of the woodland realm upon these two traitors."

"No Legolas. Stay your hand and hinder not your brother."

Legolas paid no heed to his father's wishes.

"Step aside!" The anger was steadily rising in the king's voice.

Still Legolas maintained his position between his friends and Alandor.

"I see your mind!" Thranduil exclaimed after a moment or two. "You would pledge your loyalty to me in word only whilst in your heart you also seek to be traitor to your people!"

"No father!" Legolas called back, drawing his own sword against Alandor. "But I do think that blood need not be shed!"

"Your choice is made," Thranduil replied. "Let it be known that Alandor has seemingly earned a third neck to strike."

Now Alandor advanced upon Legolas, swinging the thick sword with skill that well surpassed what he had admitted to having. Legolas spun and sliced the bonds of Aragorn, and the man ducked to retrieve his weapons which lay with that of Gimli on the floor off to one side. In an instant, he had the weapons and had freed the bound dwarf.

"Guards!" Thranduil cried.

"Remain at your posts," Legolas ordered, the authority in his voice matching that of the king.

The two guards, torn as to whom they should obey, hesitated. That was all the time that Nimras and Tauron needed. They both unsheathed their swords and made ready to aid Alandor. The man and dwarf were momentarily forgotten. Evidently some grander plan was being disrupted by Legolas' sudden change of mind. Aragorn gripped Anduril tightly; Gimli's grip on his axe was like iron.

"Stay back," Legolas told them, never taking his eyes of his three opponents.

"You cannot fight them on your own," Aragorn argued.

"I said stay back! If you shed blood here today, nothing I do will be able to save you."

Gimli glanced at Aragorn. He had lowered his sword, returning it to its sheath. As much as he hated to abandon Legolas to such odds, he knew that the elf was right. The shedding to blood was a grave crime in Mirkwood, unless it was to deal punishment according to the ancient laws. If Aragorn and Gimli were to join the fight and kill an elf, they truly would be guilty of a crime.


	19. Chapter 19

Reluctantly, Aragorn and Gimli allowed Legolas to handle the elves himself, and instead stood close by the far western wall. Alandor had since backed away from the confrontation, allowing Nimras and Tauron to attack the unaided prince. He himself returned to the side of Thranduil and Kyno, who stood near to the king. Kyno whispered something to the woodland king, but Legolas had not the chance to strain his ears to listen. Nimras struck out with his sword and Legolas barely had time enough to parry the blow. At that moment, Tauron struck out with his own sword and the metal bit deeply into Legolas' left arm. The prince could not hold back the sudden cry that erupted in his throat.

At the wall, Gimli's fists tightened into iron, forcing himself with all his will power to stay put. How he wished to take up his axe and punish the one who had so savagely wounded Legolas! Next to him, Aragorn fought a similar internal battle of wills, though he showed nothing outwardly.

Blood flowed from the slice on Legolas' arm, soaking the sleeve of his tunic. The light green material became stained with a sickening crimson. Legolas continued to fight off the assault on both sides, striking out to parry a blow first from one side, then the other. He managed to wound Nimras, but not before the elf had dealt him a blow that smote Legolas in the middle of his lower back, though the blade did not bite too deeply. Legolas set his jaw and though he had stumbled at the impact, he stood straight once more, glaring at the brothers, daring them to strike again.

Tauron rushed at the prince, his sword before him and struck hard at Legolas' own weapon. The savagery of the blow shook Legolas' arm violently and his grip was loosened. The elvish blade clattered to the ground and Tauron kicked it from Legolas' reach. But the prince still had his hunting dagger and drew it desperately from its sheath. Death was in the eyes of the two prison guards as they advanced upon the son of Thranduil. Side by side they came ever nearer, forcing Legolas back towards the southern wall, his sword laying helplessly on the floor behind them.

Backing away from the points of the enemy swords, Legolas chanced to look towards his father. His eyes flickered over the shoulders of Nimras and Tauron towards the throne. Kyno and Alandor he could clearly see, but the king's throne was empty. Thranduil was nowhere in sight. Fear gripped its icy fingers around Legolas' heart, but at the moment, he could not risk scanning the room for his father.

Tauron struck out once more with his sword. The blade caught Legolas in the left shoulder just as he reached up to block the blow. He was too late. The sword came to rest in his flesh. But for as late as the block had come, Legolas managed to prevent a good deal of damage, staying the blade from slicing through the sinews that held his arm to his torso. He could still use his left arm to fight, though the pain was like a fire set in his flesh.

As he had attempted to stay the sword, Legolas struck out with his hunting knife with lightning speed. The knife sliced neatly across Tauron's stomach, though Legolas had deliberately checked his strength. He did not wish to kill the elf and so made sure that the blade did not pierce his bowels. True, the situation facing Legolas was grim, but the young prince could not bring himself to slay one of his own kind, justified as the kill would have been. If he could wound them enough to disarm the elves without killing them, he would do so.

At the feel of Legolas' knife upon his flesh, Tauron involuntarily wavered, giving Legolas the opportunity he needed, and not too soon, for the prince was fast approaching the southern wall. Mustering all of his strength, Legolas charged forward, throwing his full weight into Tauron, knocking the guard to the ground. Nimras was momentarily thrown off by this sudden change in battle fortunes, giving Legolas enough time to close most of the distance between himself and his sword. A sudden thought came to mind that perhaps if he could get to Kyno, he could use the elf's life as a bargaining chip to order back the others long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

Legolas' plans were cut short by an unexpected pain in his right calf, felling him as he ran towards his sword. He hit the stone floor hard, just feet from where his unattended blade lay. He reached back, gingerly feeling for the source of the nearly blinding pain, and winced when his fingers hit upon the cold steel of a knife that had been embedded into his muscle. Gritting his teeth, he grasped the knife's handle and pulled it free from his leg. Without the knife to block the wound, the prince's blood rushed forth. Tears sprung into the very corners of his eyes at the overwhelming pain but he forced himself to stand, grabbing up his sword in the same motion.

Now Tauron had also regained his footing and he leapt towards Legolas, his sword ready to plunge into the elf's heart. Upon Legolas' right side, Nimras took the same stance, sandwiching the prince between them. If Legolas was to turn to face one of the guards, the other would be behind him and deal the killing blow. Legolas knew this and did the only thing that he could do. As the two elves rushed him, swords before them, Legolas threw himself to the floor. Above him, neither sword was denied a bloody meal as the blades of the brothers impaled one another.

Now Legolas stood once more, shakily though his stance was. The pain in his leg was great. He found that he was close to Aragorn and Gimli, though they stood some way ahead. Raising his sword, he pointed it to the two figures on the dais where the king's throne sat.

"Your plan has failed, Kyno," he said.

"Has it now?" came the mocking reply. "Come then, strike me dead! You have already killed my sons!"

"Do not try and weaken me with undeserved guilt," snorted Legolas. "Fight me like a true warrior. Send not your minions to do your dirty work."

"The only dirty work I have seen this day is yours," came a new voice.

From behind Kyno, Thranduil stepped forward. In his hands were a ceremonial bow and two arrows. Legolas recognized them as having hung on the walls of the throne room.

Now Thranduil notched one of the green feathered shafts and pulled the bow string back to his cheek. He checked his aim.

"Die now, my traitorous son," he said coldly.

Before Legolas' mind could register what was happening, the arrow took fight, speeding towards him. But before he had the chance to move or think, a figure rushed before Legolas, taking the dart for him. Legolas looked down. There lay Aragorn, the arrow embedded within his chest, laying in a steadily growing pool of blood.


	20. Chapter 20

In an instant, Legolas was at Aragorn's side, kneeling next to his unmoving form. Checking quickly for a pulse, Legolas shouted over his shoulder at the two guards standing at the doorways.

"Bring a healer quickly!"

"Stay your ground," countered Thranduil, who still held the second arrow in his hands.

"If Aragorn dies, you will share in his fate," Legolas said with all the authority and threat that he could muster. It was an empty threat he knew; he would never slay a guard for deeds they were not directly responsible for, if indeed he could ever kill an elf.

The two guards glanced uncertainly at one another, torn between the commands of their two lords. But at last the threat of the prince and the knowledge that Thranduil was not in his right state of mind won out, and the two dashed off through the doors to find what healer they could.

Now Legolas forced himself to regain his footing, though he used his sword to help him stand. Again he faced the three figures on the dais. His defiant eyes locked with that of Kyno and the time seemed to freeze as they stood locked in a battle of wills. Both were strong and refused to relent to the other. That was when Alandor attacked, seeing his opportunity to kill Legolas. Immediately, Kyno's eyes abandoned their struggle with the prince.

"Celebloki! Fall back!"

"Celebloki? Silver dragon?" Legolas said under his breath.

Alandor hesitated for a moment in mid-stride but took up his path again almost immediately. That pause was all Legolas needed to put the puzzle pieces together. The elf rushing towards him was not Alandor; not his brother; not Thranduil's son. His name or nickname was Celebloki; that which meant Silver Dragon. He was the final elf that Aragorn had warned him about. And then a realization came into the prince's mind. There was a resemblance between Celebloki and Kyno. Could he perhaps be the unhappy son of the respected healer, the one who had gone missing long ago before Legolas was even born? Surely he was near to the proper age; Legolas had been told that the elf had vanished in the same attack that Legolas now knew had claimed Alandor and Thranduil's first wife.

Now Celebloki drew near to Legolas and the prince had to act swiftly to avoid the arched path of the Death Sword, which the other elf still wielded. Kyno, though he had been annoyed by the younger elf's actions, stood unmoving near Thranduil. In his heart, Legolas feared the close proximity of the enemy to his father. But Celebloki skillfully kept his own body between the two lords; half to block the prince's access to the king and half in protection of Kyno, for he guessed as to what Legolas might do if he reached the healer.

The screech of metal meeting in mid-air rent the room as the two elves clashed blades. Legolas felt himself weakening from his wounds and from the loss of blood that he was suffering. He was slowing down and his waning strength left him with little power to deal blows of his own. The fact did not go unnoticed by the dark haired assailant. He bore down on the prince all the harder and found many opportunities to strike out at Legolas, wounding him in many places, though none delved too deep into his body. Sheer adrenaline and the instinct to survive drove Legolas to parry the blows as best he could, though his wounds screamed for him to give up the fight and rest.

Again swords met in the air, each stopping the other in a sudden halt. At the hilts, two pairs of arm muscles knotted as the elves struggled to push the other back enough to gain room and opportunity to strike. Celebloki grit his teeth and pushed against Legolas with all his might. Certainly he had expected the wounds to overcome the prince by now. A full-scale fight with him was the last thing that the elf had planned on. Now Legolas used a second hand to bare his weight down on the other's sword. Celebloki wavered and was pushed to the stone floor.

Legolas gathered his quickly waning strength and rushed at the fallen elf, but the other rolled to one side, easily avoiding the point of his sword. It was now a life and death battle and as much as Legolas hated to admit it to himself, it was now a matter of killing the Silver Dragon before he himself was killed. But he was quickly growing tired and even the rush of adrenaline was starting to ebb away from him. He needed time. Perhaps if he could stay in the fight long enough, the two guards he had sent to find the healer would return with help. With a last effort he sprang upon the elder elf and pressed the edge of his sword against his throat.

"Alright Silver Dragon. Though named for a foul worm you shall not worm yourself away from my grasp. Take heed Kyno and make no move, lest I slit his throat."

Kyno held his hands aloft to show that he would make no move towards any weapon.

"Why have you done this?"

"Do you not know by now, little princeling? Then I shall not tell you," taunted Kyno.

Legolas drew his sword closer to Celebloki's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. "Do not test me if you wish him not to die." He was trying to buy time, though he knew not how long he could hold out if Kyno were to suddenly spring upon him.

"Oh very well," Kyno said, mocking the prince. "Too long has your family run this kingdom into the very soil of the earth. You fight these wars with the goblins and the spiders when you should embrace and ally yourself with their power. You chose to destroy that which is strong and raise up a weak race of elves. And you, little prince, you are the worst. Many a year I thought Gil-Galad was the least wise of the Eldar, leading elves and men against Sauron in the Last Alliance. But then you came along and look at your role in the war! Harbinger of death to the Dark Lord in your dealings in the war, you who helped ensure that the halfling destroyed the One Ring! Amin feuya ten' lle!" ("_You disgust me!_")

Legolas' eyes had widened as he heard the healer speak fondly of Sauron and he momentarily forgot about the elf underneath his sword. Celebloki pushed against Legolas, breaking the other's hold upon him. Legolas' back connected painfully with the stone floor, but he pushed himself up once again. Celebloki was on him as soon as he rose to his feet and using the flat edge of the Death Sword, he smote Legolas in the right side. The force was too much for the blonde elf and he crumpled to the floor. Celebloki, satisfied that Legolas was down for the moment, turned to Kyno and Thranduil. He raised his sword high to signify his victory before he struck the killing blow.


	21. Chapter 21

The hilt of a sword connected roughly with Celebloki's head. He had made an error when he had assumed that his opponent had been beaten down enough. Legolas had instead risen to his feet and used what strength was left to him to bring the hilt of his sword into the back of the other's head. Now it was Celebloki who lay crumpled on the floor. Legolas raised up his sword but could not bring himself to slay the unconscious elf that lay at his feet. The sword was lowered again.

Instead, Legolas left the elf and made his way, stumbling, towards the throne. He knew that he did not have much time before the Silver Dragon awoke, for the elf was strong in will and the blow to his head too weak to knock him out for very long. If Legolas could get to Kyno, perhaps he could still change the fortunes of the battle. But that hope was quickly fading. With each step, Legolas could feel his body growing heavier and his footsteps clumsier. His energy was all but spent. The sudden thought came to his darkened mind that death was not far off; he was too wounded and had lost too much blood.

"Come no further, traitor," Thranduil commanded, breaking Legolas from his thoughts.

Legolas did not heed his father's orders and continued his journey towards the thrones. He would not die without fighting until the last moment.

"Now, my lord," urged Kyno.

_Now what?_ Legolas' mind asked.

In an instant, he had his answer. Legolas had forgotten the bow and arrow still held by the king. And then Legolas knew – death was going to find him sooner than he had thought. Thranduil notched the arrow and drew the bowstring with measured movements, his face as grim and unfeeling as a stone statue. His checked his aim and released the arrow. Legolas did not have the chance to move from the path of the projectile and the metal head tore into his chest, right above his heart. It would not immediately kill him, for it had missed his heart, but Legolas knew that he would not last long as he lay unable to move upon the floor. Darkness covered his eyes and he knew no more.

Kyno, seeing the still form of the prince sprawled upon the floor, now saw his opportunity. Thranduil was defenseless and now Celebloki was starting to regain his footing. None could save Thranduil from their swords. Together, they advanced upon the king, who realized too late his danger. The bow he had was suddenly useless, the last of his arrows embedded in his son's chest. Side by side the two elves came, slowly backing the weaponless king towards the northern wall. In a minute he was at the wall and was pressed as far into the stone as he could. Kyno and Celebloki both poised to strike. Thranduil's eyes shut of their own accord.

The intended blows never came. The guards that Legolas had sent to find a healer had returned and upon seeing the plight of their king, had loosed their bows. Kyno and Celebloki lay face first upon the floor, each with arrow protruding from between his shoulder blades. All of this Thranduil saw as his eyes hesitantly reopened. But what was this? Queilos the healer was making his way to where Legolas and Aragorn lay. Enraged that one should attempt to help the two, Thranduil picked up the Death Sword and advanced towards the young healer.

"Step away," the king ordered, waving the sword before him.

Once or twice he struck out, slicing the empty air. Queilos, seeing Thranduil reeling like a drunken man, backed away.

"All of you, get out," he commanded.

Queilos and the guards, mostly in fear of the king's wrath, gave ground, backing away. When Thranduil had succeeded in causing the other elves to fall back, he shut the door and turned to where Legolas lay. Now Gimli the dwarf stood before the young prince, having escaped harm, for in the battle between the elves, he had been forgotten. In the shadows of the hall he had waited for the battle to be over, using all of his will power to keep out of the fight as Legolas had bidden. But when Thranduil had shot down his son, the dwarf could endure no more.

Now he stood before his friend, his stout legs planted firmly apart and his axe ready in his hands. The light of a fire was in his eyes, though inwardly, his heart quailed at the thought of fighting the elven king. Of course he would never personally admit it, but he could see the power within Thranduil and knew that he had almost no chance of surviving a battle with him. He could barely best Legolas when they sparred occasionally, and that was only if the elf was having an off day. Still, if he did not fight the king to defend Legolas, he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his days.

Thranduil advanced upon the dwarf, still wielding the Death Sword and a look of annoyance was on his face. The thought of having to fight a dwarf was a bothersome task. It would be easier and more convenient just to execute such a one, for surely no dwarf could ever hope to defeat an elf. And yet, tedious as the task seemed to the king, he still advanced, hoping to strike but one blow to slay the small nuisance.

Now the two locked eyes, standing one against the other, barely four feet separating them. Both seemed to be waiting for the other to make a move. At length, Thranduil raised his arm to strike.

"Stay you hand, Orophorian!" commanded a voice from behind the king.

Thranduil spun quickly around and rage was in his eyes. Who would dare order him?

There in the doorway stood several elves. Two were the guards from earlier. Queilos the healer was there also. And heading them all stood two powerful elves. Thranduil loosened his grip on the sword and it clattered coldly on the floor.

"Lord Elrond," breathed Gimli. "I do not believe it!"

But Gimli's eyes were not betraying him, for there in the doorway indeed stood Elrond and his trusted friend, Glorfindel. Both surveyed the aftermath of the battle and both of their faces fell.

"By the Valar!" Elrond breathed as he took in the carnage of the hall. "What happened here?"

"I will explain everything to you later," Gimli said. "For now let us say that the king is not himself and unless you can help him, he will remain dangerous."

"Bear him away to his quarters," Elrond ordered the two guards. "Stand guard and make sure that he remains inside. I will come to him later."

"I shall see to it personally," Glorfindel said and motioned for the guards to lay hold of Thranduil.

To Gimli's surprise, the king made no effort to fight, but perhaps that was why Glorfindel had offered to guard the king. Even Thranduil in his pride and madness would quail at the power of the elf lord, he who had slain the Balrog.

Now Elrond set to work with Queilos to see who needed tending to. Four elves were dead – Tauron, Nimras, Kyno, and Celebloki. Aragorn was badly wounded but with a little tending, he would live, for as he had thrown himself before the arrow meant for Legolas, the metal head had hit him at such an angle that the wound was not life threatening. Here the lord of Rivendell gave a sigh of relief. Aragorn was his adopted son and he loved him fiercely. Gimli was relieved to hear this, but there was no joy in his heart. Legolas, though still alive, was teetering dangerously at the edge of death.


	22. Chapter 22

Elrond feared to move the prince, lest his wounds be aggravated. Instead, he examined Legolas' wounds and tended to them as best he could on the floor of the throne room. Queilos was at his side, cleansing the wounds while Elrond treated them with a mixture of herbs that would promote healing. As he skillfully bound each wound with bandages that Queilos had brought, he questioned Gimli concerning all that had happened, and the dwarf freely told all he knew. Of the plot between Legolas and Aragorn, the dwarf knew nothing, but he had seen enough change in the elf to guess as to what had transpired. The hardest part for him was the retelling of the battle and the felling of his friends by the hand of Thranduil. Hearing that the king had shot the two arrows (and both times meaning to smite the prince), the elf lord's eyes darkened. Truly there was a powerful evil at work.

Gimli had kept his eyes averted from Legolas, for he did not wish to look upon the bloody form of his friend. But when Elrond bound the last of the wounds (and only in Gimli's story did Elrond learn of the gash across Legolas' lower back), the dwarf finally looked down. The elf was ashen in color but clean of blood thanks to Queilos. He seemed to be merely asleep, save for a still look that did not quite speak of peace. His eyes too were closed, a fact that Gimli noted with severe clarity. Elves never slept with their eyes closed; Legolas' habit of sleeping with open eyes had too often unnerved Gimli whilst they had traveled together during the war.

At last Elrond drew his hands back from Legolas and Gimli could see the blood that stained them. Then he spoke a few words in elvish, which might have been either encouragement to the prince or a prayer to the Valar. Sighing deeply, Elrond stood and looked at Gimli.

"I have done all that I can for him. The wounds themselves are not what threaten the prince. I fear because he has lost much blood, perhaps too much. Only time will tell if he shall ever awaken," he said to Gimli's unspoken questions.

Elrond's words did little to ease Gimli's heart and he watched as Queilos and a few other healers entered and exited the room. Some carried out the supplies Elrond had used, and to these elves, Elrond requested that the supplies be brought to Legolas' room, as he would be using them for some time as he tended to the prince. Others brought in litters to bear away the dead and wounded. Elrond spoke to these elves and bid them place Aragorn and Legolas in the prince's chambers, so that he could tend to both without the publicity of the healing houses. The dead were to stay until Elrond examined them further.

"Take extra care when moving the prince," he reminded them as they made ready to move Legolas. "He has suffered much and his wounds are severe."

When both Legolas and Aragorn had been taken away, the elf lord knelt by each of the dead elves, which still lay as they had fallen. From Tauron and Nimras, he could learn nothing and told as much to Gimli, who hovered nearby. Not yet could he bring himself to follow his friends. Now Elrond knelt by Knyo and Celebloki as they lay side by side. From Kyno, once again there was nothing to be learned. Then Celebloki was searched. As he searched for answers, Elrond once again bid Gimli to recount all that had been said between the elf and Legolas.

"I know Legolas, and he seemed to know something about that name, Celebloki," said Gimli. "It was not much, but I caught the look that passed over his face. And then too, Kyno knew the elf. He actually seemed to hold some power over him, or rather did at one time."

Elrond furrowed his bow and continued to search. Anything that Legolas knew, he had kept to himself. And then, he found what he sought. As he lifted a fold in the fabric that had clothed Celebloki, he found something. It was a mark, burnt into the elf's back, where the neck met the shoulders.

"The mark of the Necromancer!"

"Necromancer?" asked Gimli.

Elrond nodded. "Once Sauron made his dwelling in Dol Guldur in the south of Mirkwood. Celebloki, he was the son of Kyno, though I had all but forgotten until now. He went missing as a youth in the woods and was thought dead. Sauron must have caught him within his web and kept him in Dol Guldur, corrupting his mind for who knows how long. But at some point he would have been released and met with his father, bringing him knowledge of the spider venom you spoke of." As he spoke, Elrond's eyes never left the dead elf and he continued to search the body. He came upon the burn mark in the twisted shape of the royal crest. "These burns, they are not recent. It seems obvious that this plot against Thranduil and his son was laid long ago. The torture marks were made by Sauron perhaps, to make the story plausible and once Kyno had succumbed to the evil, Celebloki would have made his way to Gondor, knowing that in time he would be discovered and sent back to Mirkwood, where Thranduil would believe him to be his long lost son. If there is one thing that Thranduil always desired more than anything else, it was the return of his son. But once it became clear that Alandor would never return, save by some great gift of the Valar, the king turned his focus to what he could control. His treasury," Elrond said off Gimli's questioning looks. "Of course that is, until Legolas came into his life."

"How do you know all of this?" Gimli asked.

"I was there to see it all. I was in Mirkwood when Thranduil's first wife and child went missing and I was part of the search effort that found the remains. Celebloki was among the elves that went missing that day, and so was thought to have also perished, for we never retrieved all of the bones. I stayed in Mirkwood for some time after that, trying to help Thranduil work through his grief, but when Rivendell came under attack from the goblins of the mountains, I was forced to return to defend my own kingdom."

"And what of Thranduil? Is there something that can be done for him?"

"That I do not rightly know, but if you guide me to your prison, I will see what I can find."


	23. Chapter 23

Not long after, Elrond and Gimli had made their way down to the prison. The spiders, still caged, hissed menacingly at the two as they entered them room. Gimli had the fleeting thought that he should hew the creatures until none were left, but he restrained himself. It could be that Elrond might need them in his quest to find a cure.

Elrond paid no heed to the vile creatures but instead busied himself sorting through the contents of Kyno's workbench. There were books lining a makeshift bookcase on the wall behind it. On them were dates of years. One or two books were labeled with a single year. Most had long stretches of years scrawled on the side. Reaching up, Elrond plucked a deep blue book from the middle of the shelf. Opening it, he found crumbling pages filled with a bold, slanted elven script. He read over the page he was looking at; it was Kyno's notes, kept throughout the years as he worked on the serum.

Long moments passed as Elrond scanned the book. He was getting close to what he sought; each entry held excitement as Kyno had made breakthroughs in his evil craft. Suddenly, he came upon an entry that made him intake his breath sharply. Gimli stiffened and looked up, uncertain as to if he should be hopeful or not. It was true that there was no great love between the elf king and the dwarf, but before Thranduil's madness, he had treated Gimli civilly enough. Then also, the king was the father of his best friend, and for that alone Gimli could forgo the differences between the two enough to truly want to help the king.

"I have found the recipe for the serum," Elrond said, turning to where Gimli stood. The top of the table was just high enough that the dwarf could not see over it.

"And that of the anti-venom?"

"Alas, not yet. There are several pages missing in the book."

The hope that had crept into Gimli's heart faded as quickly as it had come. Silence fell once more, punctured only by the hissing of the spiders. Eventually, Gimli began to pace, for there was nothing, not even a stool that he could use to look over the table and help Elrond. The clinking of jars and the rustle of parchment paper could be heard now as Elrond attempted to find the missing document; that which held hope for the elven king. Perhaps he could have waited and seen if the effects of the venom wore off with the passage of time, but in this option, Elrond had no faith. Spider venom was not something to be taken lightly, despite whatever effects it caused. The possibility of Thranduil being permanently stained by the serum was too great a risk.

Now Elrond came across the jar that had held the pills that Aragorn had found. One small pill lay alone at the bottom. Elrond sniffed it and his keen elven senses detected faintly the presence of a few herbs known to counteract poison. Elrond smiled grimly. Only a healer used to dealing with herbs would have caught the odor lacing the pill. Still, a single pill would most likely not be enough to save Thranduil. Finding the recipe for the counter-drug was mandatory.

Now Elrond came across a pile of loose parchment papers and began to sift through them. Several of the papers were filled with passages that were nothing more than streams of the healer's thoughts as he tried various mixtures in his quest to perfect the serums. Others were maps and these Elrond looked at with interest.

"This is interesting," he said at length, causing Gimli to halt his marches. "These are maps of Mirkwood and seem to pinpoint areas where this strange breed of spider tends to live. These others show various paths in the woods, but no elf would dare use them. Celebloki must have made them up to show the preferred routes taken by enemy creatures. There are two different line designations. One may be for the spiders, the other, perhaps for orcs or other such fell creatures. I shall keep hold of them along with the instructions on the serum creation. If Legolas and Thranduil survive what lies ahead for them, they should see them. The maps especially will be of great use, if they are recent, to cut off the advances of evil within the woods and aiding in the ultimate cleansing of Mirkwood. Perhaps it is not long now before this land is once again known as Greenwood the Great." Gimli said nothing, for it seemed as if Elrond was more speaking aloud his thoughts than addressing the dwarf.

The maps Elrond put to one side, sliding the papers inside the hard cover of the book containing the spider-venom serum recipe. Quickly now he began to search through the rest of the papers, a silent prayer in his heart that he would find the antidote there. He was very aware of the fact that he would soon need to tend to Legolas and Aragorn's wounds as well as confront Thranduil. Finally, he reached the last paper in the stack.

"Here at last I find the antidote," he said, sudden relief apparent in his voice. "Come master dwarf! Let us take what ingredients we need and leave this dungeon."

Locating the ingredients proved to be easier than Elrond had hoped for and mentally he thanked the Valar. Glancing over the instructions again, Elrond saw that the antidote was fairly simple to create. He made the quick decision to prepare the anti-venom in the prison, though all the while his heart strayed to the upper portion of the palace, where the prince of Mirkwood and the king of Gondor lay, one fighting for his very life.

Not more than half an hour had passed when Elrond deemed that he had enough of the antidote to begin to treat Thranduil. Together, he and Gimli abandoned the prison, for which the dwarf was very glad. Stone had never before seemed so confining and unlovely to him. It felt good to return to the more airy upper palace. At the top of the stone stairs, Gimli and the lord of Rivendell parted ways. Gimli suddenly felt the need to sit vigil over his friends, while Elrond became grave once more and resolved himself to do whatever necessary to cure Thranduil.

It had given him hope when Gimli had spoken to him of Legolas' change and apparent cleansing from the serum, but in his heart Elrond knew that Thranduil was likely to be a different case. It was likely that the renegade elves had put forth greater effort into keeping the king under control. Still, the pouch that he had filled with the antidote gave him courage and hope that all could still be well. He reached the king's door.

Glorfindel stood before it, his arms crossed and ready to bar the way against any who decided to enter or exit. On either side of him stood one of the guards who had earlier been in the throne room. Elrond nodded his acknowledgment of them both before turning to speak with Glorfindel.

"I am going inside to Thranduil," he told him, "but I fear that once again I may need your assistance in controlling him. Despite his current madness he still fears your power."

Glorfindel laughed. "Surely he would quail at yourself alone, kin of Gil-Galad."

Elrond shook his head. "I do not think so. He knows me too well and what I will or will not do. His fear and respect for you may be the only weapon we have to ensure that he returns to his normal state of mind."


	24. Chapter 24

Back in Legolas' chambers, a lone dwarf sat keeping vigil over two still forms. But with nothing that he himself could do, the dwarf soon became anxious and paced the floors, much as he had done in the prison. He very much wished that Elrond was by his side, though in his heart, he knew that there was not much that the healer could do for his friends. Whether they lived or died was completely out of anyone's hands, save for the one's whose life it was. Within his own heart, Gimli sent a pleading prayer to the Valar. True, the elves were much closer to the Valar than the dwarves, but Gimli could think of nothing better and found that the prayer, though desperate, was calming.

The day slowly dragged on and the dwarf saw no other elves. Elrond must have instructed the servants to leave the prince's chambers be. Towards the night, he finally became aware that he was hungry, but he could not bear to depart from the bedside of his friends. Still he had not heard tale of Elrond and he wondered how the elf lord was faring with Thranduil.

Softly the door to Legolas' room opened, though Gimli was not aware of it, for the palace doors made no sound.

"Has there been any change?" asked a voice, suddenly cutting the silence of the room. Gimli nearly jumped out of his skin.

Looking back, he saw Elrond with Glorfindel trailing him.

"Nothing yet. How did things go with Thranduil?"

Elrond took up bowl of water and crushed a few herbs into it before using a rag to lave the brows of the injured warriors. It was a full minute or two before he acknowledged the dwarf's question.

"Initially, things went far more ill than I had anticipated. Thranduil must have consumed a large quantity of the serum." Elrond sighed. "It was long before even Glorfindel could subdue the king."

"And the antidote? Is he responding to it?" Gimli asked, impatient for news. _Surely something must have happened by now_, he thought.

Under different circumstances, Elrond might have laughed at the dwarf's impatience. Now he merely looked grim.

"It will be a day or more before we see if the antidote has had any effect on the king."

"What does that mean?" Gimli asked, catching the grand 'if' in Elrond's words.

"Thranduil has consumed much of the serum," Elrond replied, echoing his earlier statement. "Kyno noted in his journals that a prolonged exposure to the venom could, in cases, leave permanent results. I have taken such precaution as I could and gave to him a large dose of the antidote. Still, the effects of the serum remain to be seen."

"So he might just stay as he is…in the mindset to kill his son?" Gimli asked, incredulous.

Elrond nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

"So he has no regrets on what he has done to Legolas?"

"At the moment, no. The malice of the Necromancer, working through Kyno and his sons, still permeates his body and mind. Still, I do not say that you should lose all hope, master dwarf. Lord Elrond is quite skilled in healing and if any can help the king, it is he." It was Glorfindel who now spoke.

A silence blanketed the room after the elf had spoken, and Elrond continued his work on first Legolas, then Aragorn. Aragorn, though his wound was severe looking, was faring much better than when his adopted father had found him. His breathing was easier and deeper, as evidenced by the rise and fall of his chest. His pulse too was becoming steadily stronger, now that the flow of blood had been stopped and the wound closed with bandages. But then there was Legolas, whose breathing was heavily labored and quite shallow. At first glance, the rise and fall of his chest was so imperceptibly slight that any who glanced at him quickly would have certainly taken him for dead. His pulse was weak, as Elrond grimly noted. This was particularly worrisome. If it became any weaker, the elf's organs would fail utterly.

"Lord Elrond," Gimli said, once the elf was seated, his ministrations to the two finished for the time being. "I did not ask you something before…I was too grateful to see you and too anxious for Legolas and Aragorn. But something tugs at my mind. What was it that brought you to Mirkwood, only just in time to aid them?"

Elrond turned a friendly smile to the dwarf. "In truth, I knew not that anything was amiss in these woods. Rather I came at the request of Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien." Here Gimli's ears and heart perked up. "I received a message from her two weeks ago. She bid me meet her within Mirkwood, at the palace. She rides hither with Lord Celeborn for reason to destroy Dol Guldur. Glorfindel and I set out as soon as we could, though we rode at our leisure for it shall be a week or more before the Lord and Lady arrive. Now I fear that my lack of haste has had too great a consequence."

"When we arrived at the palace," Glorfindel began, picking up the story while Elrond chastised himself within his own heart, "we both sensed that much was amiss and dread stole over our hearts. We were led to the throne room by one of the servants, just in time to witness Thranduil throw the guards and healer out. We knew then that we had found the source of the anxiety that we had felt. I dearly wish that we had been a few minutes sooner. Perhaps then the young prince…" Here he let his voice trail off, not needing to finish his statement.

All that night, the three stayed within Legolas' room, taking turns to stay awake on watch, lest one either awaken or need assistance. But the night deepened and eventually passed without incident, for which Elrond was partly glad for. Legolas had passed a crucial time frame, for he had not succumbed to his wounds but instead still fought hard against them. True, he was far from being out of danger, but the first day had passed since he had been found in his current condition. Once again, Elrond sent his thanks to the Valar.

It was late evening when Elrond and Glorfindel left Gimli alone in the room to make their check on Thranduil. Since he had been left on the previous day, they had not ventured out of the prince's chambers. Now Elrond wanted to see if the anti-venom had had any effect on the king.

Gimli sat alone, deep in his own dark thoughts. Though Elrond had been pleased and lightened in heart to see that Legolas had made it through the first day, the dwarf was not convinced. There was no outward sign of the elf being on the road to recovery. Still his breathing was dangerously shallow and still his pulse had yet to become stronger.

Aragorn, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining strength in great leaps. Once or twice Gimli could see the man's muscles twitch as he fought his way back to consciousness. The second night grew older. Gimli's head began to nod, as much as he tried to fight it. Any energy that he should have had was completely spent, though he had to admit, he had done little since he had begun his vigil on the previous day. The emotional impact of the situation was finally beginning to take its' toll on him.

The moon was just over two hours shy of its' peak when Gimli suddenly awoke. He had fallen asleep, despite his best efforts to remain alert. An instant of panic shot through him and he quickly checked to make sure that his friends were not in need. Legolas' status seemed not to have changed, but Aragorn groaned in pain once or twice. Gimli guessed that one such groan was what had awoken him in the first place. He peered over at the Gondorian.

Aragorn's eyes fluttered open to find the deep set eyes of a dwarf above him. Gimli gave a cry of joy at seeing the man awake, though for the time being, Aragorn seemed unsure of his surroundings. When he appeared to be more focused, Gimli spoke to him.

"Welcome back lad! How do you feel? We were all very worried about you."

"Gimli? Where am I?"

"You are in Legolas' room. Lord Elrond has been tending you since yesterday morning."

"Elrond?"

"Aye. I will explain that later. How do you feel?" Gimli repeated his unanswered question, hoping to see what the king remembered and keeping his focus away from the unmoving form in the next bed over.

"Dazed." The answer was simple, short and to the point.

"Any pain?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Not really." He took a deep breath and suddenly laughed. "Truly Elrond is here! I recognize the scent of the salve he often mixes as a pain reliever. So that explains why an arrow wound would scarcely hurt!" Then suddenly, his face clouded over. "What of Thranduil and Legolas?" Catching the look on the dwarf's face, the man's heart suddenly fell.


	25. Chapter 25

Elrond and Glorfindel found King Thranduil in his room (still faithfully guarded, as per Elrond's wishes) huddled together in one corner of his bed. He was bent in half, his forehead resting upon his knees. If he had heard the two enter the room, he did not show it. Softly, the two Rivendell elves approached him, wary lest the king was still not himself.

"Thranduil," Elrond called.

Slowly, the Sindar elf raised his head to look at the elder elf. A quick glance at the king's face and eyes told Elrond most of the information that he was seeking. Malice was still written on his face and a fire still burned within his eyes. But his body was relaxed, in a defeated pose. The serum was beginning to work, Elrond quickly realized. The suggestions of Kyno still had hold in his mind, but he was finally coming to realize the implications of his actions. His love was not wholly back with Legolas, but in his mind he was beginning to grasp what he had actually done and perhaps part of him was grieving for his actions. Still, he spoke not a word to either of the two elves in his room.

"Thranduil! Look at me!" Elrond commanded when it became clear that he was going to pay no heed to him. Reluctantly, the king brought his gaze back to Elrond.

"You have no right to be here," Thranduil spoke at last. "This is not your kingdom. Legolas is not your son. Your precious Estel stole my son's loyalty from me and now you steal from me the right to deal with such traitors as is my wish. What do you wish now, the crown and kingship of this land? I tell you now I will not see my power stripped from me by you, half breed elf that you are!"

"Silence! You will not speak to Lord Elrond in such tones again, Orophorian!" Glorfindel roared at the king, using Thranduil's fear of him to his own advantage.

Thranduil shrank back a little at the tone in Glorfindel's voice. Though the elf had spoken with great authority, it had been mostly for show and in seeing the king's reaction to the verbal lashing he had received, he was secretly pleased. He still held power over the proud elven king, which meant that there was still a chance to use that to their advantage in the effort to reclaim Thranduil's normal, pure state of mind.

Thranduil dropped his gaze back down the sheets covering his bed and stared at them as if they had suddenly become the most interesting things in all Middle Earth.

"Thranduil, if ever once you were my friend, remember that now and listen to me. I wish you no harm, nor do I wish anything of you save for your safety and for the safety of your son," Elrond said to Thranduil, speaking in soft tones.

Elrond gave a quick glance to the ewer of water and goblet that he had left for Thranduil on the previous night. The goblet lay on one side, placed without care. The ewer was nearly empty. Elrond smiled to himself. Thranduil must have drunk it during the day, for which he was glad. Now he could attempt to give the king another strong dose of the antidote.

"He still lives then?" Thranduil asked flatly. There was neither malice in his voice nor was there even the slightest hint of concern lacing the question.

"Yes, Legolas lives still," Elrond replied in the same tone of voice.

If the healer was hoping to see a reaction from the king, his wish was not granted. Thranduil sat unmoving, allowing no emotion to play across his face and body. Yet Elrond held him in his gaze for several long minutes, studying him, searching him. After an uneasy silence, he turned on his heel and beckoned Glorfindel to follow. He did not speak again until the door to the king's room shut behind them once they were out of the room.

"The king is starting to come around a little," he said to his long-time friend and the guards who stood on watch. "Keep guard still this night. I do not know how long it shall be before Thranduil regains total mastery of his mind once more. If he asks for news of Legolas, give him no answer but instead send for me. He must not see his son, nor know of his condition until I know that he is well enough to handle it. I am sorry, my friends, to have placed this burden upon you."

"Do not apologize, my lord," replied the dark haired elf who stood to Elrond's right. "We are more than willing to aid you."

"Give this ewer of water to the king as soon as I am gone," he said, turning to where the king's meal had just been placed by one of the servants.

The female elf, knowing that something was wrong with her king (without knowing specifically what), had wished to be spared from entering the royal bedchambers. To this request, Elrond had been kind to her, and Glorfindel instead had been the one to step up to the task. At least that way, Elrond could be sure that the king was, in fact, consuming some of the antidote. Now Elrond drew forth a pouch from his side. It was an old, worn looking leather pouch that he had found on Kyno's workbench in the prison. He poured the contents of it into the water.

"I am going to increase the dosage of the antidote," he said, speaking now to Glofindel only. "He may be regaining himself somewhat but I fear what I read in Kyno's notes. I will not risk the chance of residual serum within his system that was not nullified by the antidote. Be sure that Thranduil drinks! The herbs I had to use may give the water a slightly bitter taste, but Thranduil must consume all of the contents."

"I will stay all night if I must," Glorfindel said.

"Hannon le (_thank you_­)."


	26. Chapter 26

Shortly after checking on Thranduil, Elrond returned to Legolas' chambers. He was weary, he noticed, torn with grief for Aragorn and Legolas and filled with fear for Thranduil. There was no peace of mind within him. Still, he would not allow himself rest as of yet. He needed to reapply the healing salve to the wounds of the two injured warriors as well as change their bandages. Though Legolas was of elven blood, he could not risk any infection settling within the wounds. The elf was simply not strong enough to fight off anything at the moment and infection would most likely lead to his death. As for Aragorn, it was true that he was doing well, but he was still a mortal man. Elrond feared infection within his wounds as well.

Tiredly, he opened the door to the prince's room and was met with a sight he had not expected to see. Aragorn was sitting up in bed, listening as Gimli recounted all of the events since the man had lost consciousness during the battle in the throne room. But upon hearing the elf lord enter the room, both turned their attention from their own conversation.

"My lord Elrond," Aragorn said respectfully.

"Estel! You are awake! I am glad to see you looking so well."

"I am told that I had a great healer tending my wounds," came the reply. "But surely the dwarf must exaggerate."

The banter was light-hearted and well intentioned, and despite the fear and fatigue that had settled over his body, Elrond found himself laughing. His heart was greatly eased at seeing the man awake and in such good spirits. A great burden seemed lifted from the elf's shoulders, but still the fear of losing Legolas smote his heart.

"And what else has the dwarf told you?" he asked as he began to undo Aragorn's bandages to check and cleanse his wounds.

"All that has happened, or so he says. My lord, is there any hope for Legolas and Thranduil?"

The worry that Elrond had let fall from his face returned and Aragorn's heart dropped. Then Elrond began his tale, telling the man how severely the prince was wounded and of the progress that was being made with the king. He kept his voice steady and calm, despite what emotions he was having, and yet it broke his heart to see the reaction of the man he proudly called his son. Immediately, Aragorn began a tirade of questions concerning the finer points of the methods and herbs the elven lord had used in treating Legolas. Elrond had to smile.

"It seems I have taught you too well, Estel," he said finally, in mock self reproach for having taught the man all that he knew.

Aragorn laughed, though in his heart, he wished for nothing more than to be able to help his father tend to Legolas. It was not that he did not trust Elrond; in truth there were not many that he did trust so well. But laying in bed made him feel helpless, which in turn gave way to frustration. He wasn't sure what he would do if Legolas did not survive.

Elrond seemed able to read Estel's heart and gave him a reassuring smile. "There is nothing you can do for him. As I told Gimli, what hope remains for him lays with Legolas alone. We must watch and wait to see what shall happen."

As Elrond spoke, he finished tying new bandages around Aragorn's arrow wound and turned his attention to Legolas. The elf was still ashen in color and Elrond could still see that his breathing was labored. Despite being unconscious and the virtue of the salve, he must have been in great pain. Elrond sighed softly. With such wounds as Legolas bore, that fact did not much surprise him. Now he checked the prince's other vital signs. It seemed to him that Legolas' pulse had grown faintly stronger. Of this, he said nothing, for he could not be certain of this. It could well be that perhaps in his desire to see Legolas pull through such a rough time, he was mistaken, though Elrond knew this to be an extremely rare case. And if it were indeed true, the prince could still take a turn for the worse. He did not want to kindle false hope in the hearts of Gimli and Aragorn.

When his work was completed, he took a quite supper with the others whilst they continued their vigil over Legolas. Legolas too, was fed by Elrond, who helped the prince consume a thin, nourishing soup and some water. He would need all of the strength that he could get. All the while, the three spoke with one another, and Elrond soon learned the true story behind Aragorn's adventures on the hidden paths within the palace walls. Several times he nodded with approval as Aragorn recounted the decisions that he had made, mostly in reference to his decision not to command Legolas to give Thranduil and Alandor the pills. Had he done so, Alandor, or rather Celebloki, would have been alerted to the unraveling of his carefully laid plans far too early.

"Your decision to wait probably saved the lives of Thranduil and Legolas, as well as all of Mirkwood from falling into hands tainted by Sauron's evil," Elrond said at length.

"And yet my decision still proved ill. There is a chance that Thranduil shall not come out from under the serum's influence and the commands of Kyno. And Legolas…I may yet have cost my best friend his very life."

"He may yet live," Elrond argued.

"And if he does not? If his wounds prove too great? I shall never forgive myself, knowing that I had a chance to get Thranduil the anti-venom. Then perhaps he would not have drawn weapon against his son and Legolas would never have had need to suffer so."

Elrond shook his head. "Nay, do not think that way. This plot against Mirkwood's royal family stretches back far too many years. Any sign of cracks forming in its' foundation would likely have caused Celebloki and Kyno to make a rash judgment. By not giving Legolas the antidote for his father and his supposed brother, you allowed the cracks in the plot to go unnoticed and that is often the most disastrous kind of wound to a foundation."

Whether or not Aragorn was placated by Elrond's words, he allowed the conversation to drop. He knew he could never win an argument against his father. Instead, he turned the conversation to other topics, asking about the state of affairs in Rivendell and the like. The moon rose higher in the sky, now past the midnight mark. At last, exhausted from the past two days, the three fell into a deep sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

Several days passed since the fight within the throne room with little to distinguish one day from another. Every day Aragorn grew stronger, through Elrond had bade him to stay in bed and rest. Elrond had always been overprotective with his children and would not entertain hearing the man's pleas. Legolas still had not awoken from the death-like sleep that shrouded him. Hope began to utterly fail within the hearts of the elf lord, man and dwarf.

There was good new during this time, despite the bleakness of the situation. In the afternoon of the second day since Elrond had increased the antidote intake for Thranduil, the elven king began asking about his son. Glorfindel it was who first alerted the healer to the change in the king's attitude and hope leapt into the hearts of all. Elrond had immediately risen from his seat to see with his own eyes what had occurred and returned with the best news that could have been hoped for. Thranduil had been cleansed of the venom and was once again master of his own mind and will.

Still, Elrond had feared what reaction Thranduil might have upon seeing Legolas, and so had forbidden him access to the prince's chambers. Thranduil was known to make rash decisions (a trait he had inherited from his father) and Elrond greatly feared what the elven king might do. Yet for all of Elrond's fear, neither he nor Glorfindel were able to long withstand Thranduil's strong will and persistence. The next day he was admitted into Legolas' room.

Out of respect, Elrond and Gimli departed from the room, leaving only Aragorn to witness whatever was to occur, for he still did not truly have the strength to abandon his bed. Still, just before the doors closed behind the two, Elrond distinctly heard the sharp intake of breath and the soft sobs coming from the king.

"Legolas!" he cried as he approached the bed where his son lay unmoving. "What have I done to you, my son? I deserve neither forgiveness nor mercy from the Valar for what I have done. How could I raise a weapon against you, the only light in my life? Please do not leave me! Fight Legolas! Fight to come back! For all the rest of my days I shall regret my actions."

Thranduil pleaded with his son, kneeling by the still form. Then he raised up one hand, caressing the pallid cheek of Legolas as he had so often done when the prince was but a child having nightmares in the dark. Then he bent over and kissed the motionless brow of his son. He drew back in surprise. Legolas' skin was cool to the touch, much cooler than what was normal for an elf. The thought that Legolas might still die seized his heart. Thranduil wept openly, not caring that Aragorn was still in the room.

"My lord Thranduil," spoke up the man, after nearly a quarter of an hour had passed. He had searched his heart long before finding the right words to say to the elven king.

Thranduil turned his attention to Aragorn with painstakingly slow movements. "There is nothing you can say, King Elessar, no words to ease my pain."

Aragorn was undaunted by the reaction and pressed forward with what it was that he wanted to say. "I know that there is nothing that I can say to make your burden lighter. Yet I will try nonetheless."

"I do not wish to hear it."

"Yet I must speak it. Long have I traveled with your son, through trials that would make many a heart quail and the strength of many fail. I know Legolas and I know that he is forged of strength and a great love of life. He lives yet and because of that hope remains. My heart tells me that he will yet pull through this and return to you."

"Truly you know Legolas, but knowledge does not equal wisdom. If Legolas survives his wounds and does indeed make a complete recovery, I still shall always carry such great guilt in my heart. How shall I ever look him in the eye again, knowing that I nearly took his life? And if he should depart to the Halls of Mandos, how then shall I live with myself? No father wants to cause his child pain, yet you see what I have done with my own hands."

"But not of your own will," Aragorn interjected.

Thranduil did not right away answer the man, but whether or not he was heeding Aragorn's words could not be told from his stone-like features.

"I was weak," he said at length. "I was weak and because of that I may have taken my son's life. Whether or not it was my own will that heeded Kyno's poisoned words, I should have had strength enough to stay my hand from that bow. I am sorry Legolas, though sorry makes for a poor cure. Please, my son, hold firm to Arda. Fight to come back into the word of light! Shake off the shadow!"

Once again Thranduil bowed his head and wept and Aragorn felt at a loss to be able to comfort the grieving king. In many respects, he was experiencing many of the same emotions, though he knew that his own grief could not rival that of the elf's father. Still, in all but blood, Legolas was his brother and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

"Please, Legolas," he whispered to himself amid the king's sobs.


	28. Chapter 28

Author's Note: There's one more chapter after this, so please don't be too upset with the way that this one ends. Happy holidays to all!

LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...LOTR...

Three more days passed since Thranduil first laid eyes upon his son. Still the elf prince had not awoken. In his heart, Elrond feared that all hope was nearly spent for his recovery. And yet, on the second night, hope once more was kindled, unlooked for in the middle of the night.

Elrond and Glorfindel remained together on vigil that night after persuading Thranduil to take some rest in his own chambers. Gimli and Aragorn too had been moved to another room, for the man was healing well and was strong enough to leave his bed, much to Elrond's gladness.

Somewhere before dawn, Elrond, feeling restless, decided to once again check the status of Legolas' wounds. It was then that the lord of Rivendell noticed several things. Immediate danger of infection was slowly fading, as the wounds that the prince bore were beginning to show the faintest signs of healing. And then, Legolas' breathing was coming easier, each breath coming more deeply. The rise and fall of his chest could now distinctly be seen at a glance. Elrond touched the back of his right palm to the prince's forehead and face, feeling for his body temperature. He drew his hand back in surprise. Legolas, though still cool to the touch, was most definitely feeling warmer. Elrond could not be sure in the warm orange glow of the candlelight, but he thought that he could see the young elf's color returning to his face. Scarcely believing what he was seeing, Elrond felt for the prince's pulse, pressing two fingers against Legolas' wrist. It _was_ true! Legolas' pulse was growing steadily stronger.

"What has put you in such a fine mood, my lord?" Glorfindel asked, observing Elrond.

To anyone who did not know the healer well, the remark would have seemed odd. Outwardly, Elrond showed nothing. He was merely a somber healer tending to a gravely ill patient. But to the eyes of Glorfindel, who had known the elven lord for many thousands of years, the unmistakable glint of hope burning within him could not be concealed.

"Glorfindel, he is returning to us," Elrond answered. "Indeed I should think that it will not now be long before he awakens."

The powerful elf warrior smiled as he heard the words. "Well done, my friend."

Elrond shook his head. "Nay, it was not I who has helped Legolas get to this point. All that has occurred has been in the prince's hands. In many respects he is so like his father; he stubbornly holds on to what is his. In this case, we are lucky, for this has steeled his will into maintaining his hold on his life in Arda."

Now the third day came to pass without Legolas showing any signs of being ready to awaken from his troubled sleep. Thranduil was encouraged by Elrond's report in the morning and he renewed his vigil over his son, always accompanied by Aragorn and Gimli. The day slowly wore on until finally the sun began to climb back down the horizon. Then Legolas began to stir until at last he opened his eyes, only to find himself staring into the face of Elrond, who was checking on him.

"Lord Elrond," Legolas began weakly, still trying to focus through the weakness of his body and his blurred vision. "Had I known you were coming to Mirkwood, I would have ordered a celebration," he quipped.

At Legolas' voice, Thranduil snapped suddenly to attention, for he had crossed the room and had been staring out of his son's window into the darkening forest. Now he crossed the room in long quick strides, making his way back to Legolas' bedside.

"Father!" Legolas exclaimed as he caught sight of the king.

"My son! You are awake! Never have I been so glad to see you awake," Thranduil said as he embraced his son. "I do not ask for your forgiveness, for I deserve none," he added as he pulled away once more.

Legolas shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive, father. I know that it was not you who did such actions. Sauron's evil was at work. But I take it that Lord Elrond has healed you?"

Elrond nodded his head. "And I take it that you knew of who Celebloki truly was?"

"Yes, though I did not know until far too late. It was not until Kyno said his name that I made the connection. Up until then, once Aragorn had told me all that he had learned, I thought perhaps Celebloki was merely a Dark Elf come to usurp the throne. But once Kyno said his name, I remembered suddenly the healer's eldest son and the story of his disappearance. The very fact that he was alive after so many years caused me to think that perhaps he had been protected within the walls of Dol Duldur from the orcs and spiders, who surely would have killed such a young elfing."

"We found the mark of Sauron upon his body," Gimli said. "He and Kyno were shot down by the palace guards when they tried to attack your father."

Legolas looked thoughtful and sad. "It is a shame that such a young one had his life taken away. He could have been great within these woods but instead his options were taken away and his mind overthrown by the Enemy. I pity him in a way."

"Well I do not," Thranduil said as he fixed the pillow beneath his son's head. "He nearly cost me my most precious treasure...you."

"And nearly Aragorn and Gimli as well," said Legolas. "I am sorry for the trouble that I have caused for both of you. Aragorn, I do not really know how to thank you for all of you help…and for your attempt to save my life in the throne room."

He glanced at the man sitting across from him, the bandages covering his arrow wound clearly visible. Aragorn laughed.

"Thank me? No, my friend. There is no need for such things between friends. Did you honestly think that I would do less for you?"

Legolas laughed at the man's light ribbing. "I should hope not, after all that I endured just so you could return to Gondor as the king. For your sake I even made friends with a dwarf."

He was joking of course and Aragorn laughed a deep, pure laugh. Gimli chuckled quietly but quickly aimed a retort at his friend, which soon had even Elrond laughing lightly. When the laughter died down, Elrond spoke.

"Legolas, tell me, how is it that you feel? Surly your sense of humor remains unscathed at the very least."

"I feel a bit weak and the arrow wound aches. It is a dull, throbbing pain, but otherwise better than I could have expected."

"Good," Elrond replied. "The salve I have been spreading on the wound is working. I had feared that your wound might be too extensive for it to have much virtue. Indeed, I am amazed at how quickly you seem to be rebounding. Surely I had expected many more days before you began your verbal sparring with my beloved son and master dwarf."

"He has always been strong that way," Thranduil remarked. "Nothing I have ever witnessed has ever kept Legolas down for long."

Legolas nodded. "Indeed I have full intention of returning to my warriors before the week is out."

He was only half serious, that Thranduil knew by the tone in his son's voice. And yet, he knew that given the chance, Legolas would stick by that remark. If he were to be fully healed within a week's time, Legolas would certainly not think twice about rejoining his men and beginning his work cleansing Mirkwood anew. But chances were, and this he could tell that Legolas already knew, that a week would still find the prince recovering from his wounds. True, he would heal faster now that he was awake and not fighting to retain his life, but the wounds that he bore had been extremely damaging and it would be several weeks before he would be healed well enough to return to the hunt.

At the prince's words, Elrond smiled slightly and shook his head. "I am sure that you do have such intentions. It is a shame that you will not be able to stick to them. You will need time to heal properly. Also, the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel ride hither to destroy Dol Guldur. You should be at their side with your father when that occurs, not off hunting spiders."

Legolas snapped to attention. "The Lord and Lady are on their way?"

Elrond nodded. "That is why I have come."

Quickly, he told the wounded elf all that he wished to know concerning his own travels with Glorfindel. Legolas seemed very interested in the tale and stopped Elrond at several points to ask him questions. To the young elf's curiosity, Elrond smiled to himself in amazement. He had not been joking when he had said that he had expected much more time before Legolas showed signs of being himself completely. But the young prince seemed perfectly healthy and strong for one who had only just awoken from the brink of death. Truly, if the healer had not known of the dire situation that had hung over Legolas' head earlier, he reasoned that he would never have been the wiser.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's Note: Okay folks...here it is, the final chapter of this story! I hope you enjoyed readingit as much as I enjoyed writing it. grins> Happy New Year to all!

LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....LOTR....

The waxing moon climbed higher in the sky, nearing its peak. Elrond finished his tale and suddenly remembered the maps and recipe for the serum that he had taken from Kyno's notes. At Thranduil's request, he took the documents from the top drawer of Legolas' night table, where he had placed them for safe keeping. Now the king and the prince looked at them in interest and once or twice Legolas swore in Elvish under his breath.

"These maps will come in quite useful. I dearly wish I had had them earlier. Though no elf has yet fallen to the evil in our current hunt, I am afraid that a great many strong warriors have been badly wounded in battle. With these maps we could, perhaps, have averted some of the ambushes that succeeded in taking us off guard. Yet these maps still bring us hope, if the information is still current. Perhaps the restoration of Greenwood the Great is not as far off as I had imagined," Legolas said, never taking his eyes off of the inked parchment.

"What ever became of the spiders?" Thranduil asked.

"They remain locked in their cells as I found them," replied Elrond. "I left them alive when I found them, for I was unsure if I would need to extract venom from them if my quest to find the antidote was to be in vain. And then, it is not my place to see the creatures dead. You and Legolas have been the ones wronged, and so you should be the ones to expel this evil from your home."

Thranduil nodded his head. "Very well. As soon as Legolas is well, he and I shall deal with the spiders."

"You only say that because I am a better shot with the bow than you," Legolas sniffed teasingly, however true his words were.

"Let us be thankful for that," Glorfindel said, for he knew the elven king well. "Had he possessed as great a marksmanship as you, you would not be alive now. That arrow would never have missed its mark."

"Let us be thankful indeed!" said Gimli, the closeness of the arrow to his best friend's heart suddenly coming back into his mind.

Thranduil looked down, for the same thought had passed through his mind as well.

Now the spider venom serum was studied and burned in the hearth along with all of Kyno's books and notes tracking the many years spent in pursuit of perfection of his poison. These Elrond and Glorfindel had brought into the prince's room, where the two had spent their time reading them and ensuring that no helpful and good discoveries had been transcribed. There had been none, only vented frustrations and evil information, and so the books were burnt without a thought.

"Still, I wonder how Kyno came to hold spiders so long within the palace walls unnoticed," Thranduil mused aloud.

"I think I may know," Legolas said, watching as a deep red book was fed into the fire. "That prison was not one of the ones that we used to imprison the dwarves in before the Battle of Five Armies. I do not rightly remember what the reasoning behind that was now. Tauron and Nimras would have been the only guards down there in any case, for that is the smallest prison that we have, and they were both part of the plan. Did Kyno ever bring in spiders to the palace for any reason?"

"No," said the king. "But I do now remember this. Kyno did once ask for permission and an escort to hunt down spider lairs. That was many years ago. You were quite young then. He had wanted to study the spiders in the woods and perhaps kill some with the intent of collecting venom to improve the antidotes that we had then, which were only successful in saving the afflicted about half the time. If Kyno did nothing else good in his life, he did right by the antidotes. Since his breakthroughs and new formulas, it is very rare to lose a bitten elf now."

"You are sure that he did not bring back live specimens?" asked Legolas.

"Yes, I am sure. I saw him arrive back. He had no live spiders."

"Eggs then," said Aragorn, seeing where Legolas' thought was turning. "It is possible that he could have found a nest, maybe killing the adult spiders, and taken the eggs back with him."

"It is possible," said Thranduil slowly as the realization came to him. "It is very possible, for I did not check his belongings, as I had never had the need to."

"Well, it matters not any longer," said Legolas as he stifled a yawn. Though he seemed in all outward appearances to have recovered from his wounds, their effects still lingered. His energy since awakening had been spent.

"Indeed. There is nothing now that can be done about the past," said Elrond as he threw the last of Kyno's books upon the fire. "Now we should all rest, Legolas most of all. You need to regain your strength," he said, looking kindly upon the wounded prince.

Legolas nodded, though admitting his weakness was ever a sore blow to his pride.

"I shall," was all that he said.

Once Legolas had awoken from his troubled sleep, the prince quickly regained his strength. Within a week's time, he was nearly healed, though his chest wound and leg wound still bothered him, having not yet healed completely. Still, Elrond felt confident enough to permit Legolas leave to wander about the palace as well as relax in the outdoors sunlight. He could not yet muster the strength to climb into the trees however, and that was a fact that Legolas was loathe to accept. But his friends still remained in the kingdom, now his father's honored guests, as did Elrond and Glorfindel. Celeborn and Galadriel had as of yet not come.

For his friends, Legolas was quite glad, for in them he found the companionship and comfort that he needed during his healing. Gimli it was, perhaps, that had been of the most importance, for after several days confined to his bed, Legolas had become slightly depressed. He missed the sun and the wind, and he had really missed speaking with the trees. But the dwarf had come to the rescue, verbally sparring with his friend and keeping his mind off of the things that the elf missed.

The spiders had been shot down at the hands of Legolas and Thranduil as soon as the prince had been able to stand and draw his bow, and the bodies had been burnt together in a clearing just outside of the kingdom gates. Already the bodies of Tauron, Nimras, Kyno, and Celebloki had been committed to the hungry flames of funeral pyres. That had occurred before the prince had even awoken. What Thranduil had told the elders about all that had occurred, Legolas did not ask, nor did his father offer to say.

Now Mirkwood slipped back into a quiet state of peace as things back to return to normal. It was true that many of the kingdom's warriors were out in the woods still striving against the evil, and Legolas often thought of them, yearning to rejoin them. It was not that he could not wait to leave the palace; in fact, it was quite the opposite, as Legolas found it hard to leave each time. But the thought of any evil still remaining in his woods, and therefore posing a threat to his people, smote his heart and boiled his blood. True peace could only exist once the goblins and spiders were vanquished.

The End


End file.
